#'i was wrong... non-interference is the only way...'

[arodrwho]

continuing tos watch. they sure are saying some things

[gojos-thot-patrol]

a let my demons get a little silly with it here

Now Loading, Kinktober Week Two...

Synopsis: Ryomen always got what he wanted, it was a simple rule of life. And ever since he caught your scent, you were all that he wanted- your previous bond mark be damned. And you must have wanted him too. Why else would your window be open in the middle of your heat? Kinks: Omegaverse, Breeding, Marking, Knotting, Scent, Dub-Con, Non/Con, Somnophilia, and Infidelity. Reader Discretion is Advised.

Sukuna was going to fuck you. He was going to have you on your back, legs spread as he filled you to the brim, breeding you like a bitch while covering you in his bite marks and scent. Sukuna was sure of this fact from the first time he caught your smell in the air, light and warm and made for him. You were made for him. It was only a matter of time until he took what was rightfully his.

The only problem was you were marked, and sadly, it wasn’t by him. Worse yet, it was by some weak asshole who barely even had the ability to mark someone. Some feeble excuse of a man who probably didn't know what to do once he got your panties around your ankles, much less what to do when you were in your heat. The only thing worse than you being bonded to that douche canoe, was knowing it only happened so you wouldn’t be bonded to him. 

Okay, so “bonded” wasn’t really the right word there. “Sacrifice” was closer to the actuality of the situation, but still! You were literally destined to be his, and one asshole wants to play hero and fuck it all up? It drove him fucking mad, what right did that limp dick think he had to interfere? He caught himself clenching his fist and jaw. He needed to calm down before he hurt someone, especially since the only person nearby was you. 

Sukuna watched from a distance as you lounged under your tree, finding comfort in the forest instead of the inherent danger you should feel. He had suppressed his scent enough he was sure you hadn’t noticed, your calm demeanor conveying that fact. He could have you right now, release his scent and take you where you sat. But, that wouldn’t have done anything about your bond mark. No, to take care of that Sukuna had to be patient. Which, was a real fucking drag because if there was anything Ryomen Sukuna wasn’t it was a patient man.

🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘

He remembered the first time he encountered you. Almost a month ago now, while he was taking his regular walk through the woods. He could still feel the full body reset that happened when he caught your aroma, the smell of apple and clove working its way through his nervous system and grabbing his cock his heart in a chokehold. Suddenly, his lazy stroll through the woods was a hunt to find out what decadent creature had made such a perfume. 

And that’s where he found you. Sitting contently in a floral field, making a fucking flower crown of all things, and surly waiting for him. He saw your hands falter and your eyes widen as he approached, no doubt because you finally picked up on his pheromones. He could feel the smirk forming on his lips. 

“Well, what a nice surprise,” He hummed as he approached you, “I wasn’t expecting to find anyone else out here.” You immediately fell into a low bow before him. Good, you knew your place. 

“I’m sorry my lord,” You apologize, though you weren’t sure why. You knew of the warlord Ryomen Sukuna. You knew he owned your village, as well as the villages surrounding it. But to your knowledge he didn’t police who was allowed in the woods. Still, you’d rather not risk upsetting him. 

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing out here, all alone?” He asked, eyes tracing the way your back curved into the bow.

“My mate and I moved closer to the forest recently, I was exp-”

“Your mate?” The vitriol in his tone made your stomach revolt and ignited your fight or flight system. You didn’t even know what you had done wrong. 

“Y-yes?”

“Stand up, look at me.” He demanded. You did so without hesitation, your omega body naturally inclined to follow the alphas commands. When you did, you were hit with a fresh wave of his aura, the smell of whiskey and cinnamon filling your senses and making your joints feel weak. You were caught between your need to honor your bond mark, and the need to fall to your knees for the man in front of you. You whimpered softly as he grabbed your chin and shoved your head to the side.

Sure enough, right there on your scent gland were faint teeth shaped scars. If he wasn’t specifically looking for them, he wouldn’t have seen them at all. Still, the fact it hadn't been refreshed didn’t negate the fact that it was there. You were unequivocally spoken for. 

“You don’t smell marked.” He scoffed as he released your head, taking a step back.

“It’s new…” You muttered. He may not have been able to smell your mate, but the stench of a lie was familiar to him. Especially one as piss poor as that.

“If it’s new then you should reek of him, Wench, don’t lie to me.” He growled. You looked down as your shame rolled over you.

“He’s a beta.” HE’S A BETA?! Sukuna had felt rage a lot in his life. Some may even say it was his default setting. But the rage he felt at being cucked by a beta was unlike anything that he had felt before. He felt his fingers twitch with the need to wrap around someone's neck, and the urge to burn down this entire forest was a hard one to fight. He choked back his molting hot fury with a simple reminder: Beta bond marks don’t mean shit. He could easily still have you. He just had to wait for your next heat cycle to do it, when your hormones were high and looking for something more…substantial, then a betas nub. 

“How cute, being mated to a beta. I’m sure you’re crazy for each other.” He sneered. You wished. Leaving every heat cycle woefully unsatisfied and frustrated might have been worth it if you had actually loved the man. If your union to him wasn’t purely survival. 

“He provides.” You settled on a half truth to keep from lying, one Sukuna definitely picked up on. 

“What’s your name Omega?” He demanded.

You told him your name in a soft whisper. Cute name. He’d be sure to have his servants look into you and your records. 

“Well Omega,” He said, making a point not to use the title given to him. To remind you what you were. “You should probably get back to your beta. It’s not safe for a pretty little thing like you to be out in these woods alone.” It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know that was a warning and a threat, the edge in his words making that much clear. You nodded to the warlord, before making your way home. You fought the urge to sprint with everything you had in you, knowing better than to activate his prey drive. 

He watched as you did, noting your refusal to run. Smart girl. He could feel his mouth watering as he watched your hips sway, and his body buzzed with the need to have you under him. He took a deep breath to recollect himself before making the walk home. He’d have you soon enough.

🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘

He kept a close eye on you in the weeks that followed. Learning about how your marriage was arranged through his servants, and how your marriage was failing from watching you. To your credit, you did try in earnest to make it work. You were the perfect mate. You kept a tidy home, always had dinner ready, and were always happy to get on your back for your husband. 

And yet it did nothing. That asshole still acted as if he was gods fucking gift for “saving” your life, and as if you didn’t do enough. Dinner was never right, there was always an issue with the house, and every morning Sukuna could smell your dissatisfaction from the night before- still rolling off you in waves.  It was pathetic that a creature as divine as you was wasted on swine like him. The good news was that your scent was evolving. As the leaves changed colors your fragrance got thicker, and sweeter in some aspects. You clung to your beta even if he was woefully unequipped. Your heat was coming.

A fact you were all too aware of. You could feel it pooling in your stomach and feverish on your skin. The effects were already starting, and you knew this one was going to be hell. Your mate thrashed in between your legs, chasing his high in you. You felt close, so close. Your body was trembling with anticipation, electricity buzzing under your skin. All you needed was his knot and-

He pulled out of your quivering cunt, cumming on your stomach with a guttural moan. Oh, right. He didn’t have a knot. You whined as he painted you white, wanting to snap at him for wasting his load. You held back though, knowing that, in reality, the last thing you wanted was his pups. You watched as he rolled off the bed and grabbed his pants.

“W-wait, but Naoya-” You panted, “I’m so close, please-”

“You’re gonna have to finish yourself, I’m gonna be late for my train.” Your “mate” groaned as if you were an inconvenience. 

“But…” You whimpered, then let it go. You knew better than to argue, and besides. Your climax was already fleeting. “Do you have to go?” You asked softly. You understood that, as a beta, Naoya couldn’t sense when your heat was coming like an alpha could. You accepted that. What you found hard to accept was that he still planned a business trip during your heat cycle, despite you explicitly telling him that you would need him. 

“Yes, Sweetie,” He said it with so much ire and hate, you would have rather he called you a bitch. “This is my job. It doesn’t stop because you’re horny.” He snapped, tired of having this conversation again. His venom shut you up. You watched as he quickly got dressed, then grabbed his bags and rushed for the train station. You fought tears as you went to clean yourself up. Were you really so unloveable?

You often wondered what the worse fate was, being sacrificed to Ryomen Sukuna or being trapped in a loveless pair bond. For years you knew without doubt it was being sacrificed to the warlord. You were always grateful to your father for selling you to the beta, saving you from what would no doubt have been a cruel and untimely death. Naoya may have been cold at times, but surely he wasn’t as bad as Sukuna.

Or at least, that’s what you used to think. Before you had actually met the man, and felt the way your body reacted to his presence alone. Suddenly, the so-called king of curses invaded your every thought, and life trapped in a passionless marriage felt like a prison sentence. You thought about Sukuna constantly, especially in the days leading up to your heat. You chased his faint scent on the wind, traced his markings in your dreams, and envisioned him to endure your husband's advances. 

It left you a wreck. Especially now, as night fell and your body temperature rose. Your fingers were doing absolutely nothing for you, and wouldn’t for at least the next week. Which, was rather conveniently when your husband was due to return home. You knew your heat bothered him, but you never knew it bothered him this much. Resentment grew in you the more you thought about it. If he didn’t want a fucking omega, then why the fuck did he pay for one? 

You tried not to think about it as you opened your window, hoping the cool night air would do something to help cool down your feverish skin. You lived far enough away from the other villagers you didn’t really have to worry about a wayward alpha finding you. And at this point, you weren’t sure you would care if one of them did. 

You settled into your nest, albeit a bit reluctantly. The faint smell of your mate clung to it, and despite your bond mark it brought you little comfort. More just frustration. It didn’t smell right anymore. You quickly took off your sleep pants, finding them unbearably hot, leaving you in just a tank top and soaked panties as you drifted off to sleep.

Sukuna could try and say that he was just out on a stroll to enjoy the moonlight. That he enjoyed the peace that the dark brought with it, and was only out to clear his mind. He would be lying. The truth of the matter was Sukuna had been keeping tabs on you. And while your bitch of a mate may have been inflicted with brain worms, Sukuna was not. He knew you were alone, and in heat. And he fully planned to take care of you, in ways your beta couldn’t dream of doing.

Walking to your little shack at the edge of the woods felt like wading into a warm lake, your trail becoming thicker and thicker in the air as he made his way to you. It was intoxicating, and he couldn’t stop the visions of you whimpering underneath him from entering his mind. Needy and alone, fuck. He could feel his blood rushing in his veins as your scent laced into his senses and his psyche, and his cock ached for you.

He wasn’t shocked to find your window open. Of course your window was open. You were waiting for him, your true mate. That fucking beta be damned, you wanted him, why else would the window be open? He crawled into your room on instinct more than much else, your body calling to him like a siren's song. The reality of your heat hit him like a train as he took in your visage. Sleeping not-so-peacefully in your marital bed, mindlessly rutting into a pillow drenched with your slick. He fucking hated that you were reduced to fucking pillows.

He was right here, you just needed to let your proper alpha take care of you. Let him protect you, let him fuck you until you can’t walk, let him fill you to the brim- until you’re overflowing, let him fix the fucking stench of your nest. He was on your bed and spreading your legs before he even fully realized what he was doing, ripping your slick drenched panties off of you. On a normal night, he would have touched you and known you were burning alive with a fever. But tonight? He was molting lava with his own forced rut, and he didn’t even notice yet. 

Mates don’t need to ask before taking care of their mate in heat, so he doesn't even bother waking you up before shoving two fingers into your weeping pussy to get you ready for him. You whine out softly, back curling off of the bed as he thrusts his fingers in and out of you sharply. He smirked as he curled his fingers up, listening to your breath catch in your throat.

“Fuck, Sukuna..” You whimpered in your sleep. Of course you called out his name, you were his omega. You chose him, you were meant to be with him. Soon, there would be no doubt about that. After he covered you with his scent, after he marked you as his and only his, and when your stomach was swollen with his pups- pink haired, four eyed and undeniably his.

He shrugged off his robe, his rock hard cock burning with need and dripping pre-cum. He ran his dick up your slit, gathering your divine slick on his angry red tip. He felt the tension in his shoulders finally dissolve as he pushed into you, finally at home where he was supposed to be. He growled as he sunk in to his base in one swoop. 

You jolt awake with the sudden intrusion, your cunt torn between pushing the intruder out and sucking him in deeper. “Wh-wha…?” You were given no time to try and catch up to the situation before the assault on your g-spot started, leaving you a moaning mess. Sukuna lifted your hips, holding your body with just his forearms as he changed the angle he fucked you in to fuck you deeper, harder. He needed it to take.

You looked up and saw a shock of pink hair and sharp tattoos through bleary eyes. On the surface your body revolted, knowing this wasn’t your mate and he was not meant to be touching you. But something deeper, more primal rejoiced at feeling the alphas fat cock. “Fuck, fuck, more..” You whimpered, bucking your hips in time with his thrusts. You could feel his knot swelling inside you and all you wanted was him. Nothing had ever felt more right. 

Sukuna had fucked a lot of omegas during his ruts. He ran through whores like they were nothing. But none of them had ever felt like this. Your pussy was made for him, so perfect as it milked his cock. Your body reacted to him perfectly. You were made to be his. You were his. Every inch of your skin, every breath you took, every smile you gave you were his. He’d prove it. He grabbed you in a bruising grip as he bent over you, capturing you in a demanding kiss and taking what little breath you had away in a clash of teeth and tongues. You belonged to him.

He growled lowly, as he pulled back, throwing your ankles over his shoulders as he pressed his body weight into you, folding you in half. “Fuck, you’re so good,” He groaned, “So fucking tight for me Baby Girl. Gonna knot you, fill you with my pups,” You didn’t know if he was talking to you or himself but it didn’t matter. A thought that should have been deeply revolting to you as a marked woman had never sounded more euphoric.

“Yes, please,” You begged into his ear, “Fuck me, it’s s’ good. Fill me, I- I need you.” you slurred together whatever words you could grapple with. You felt drunk on the feeling of euphoria, you almost forgot sex could feel so good. Your words, albeit a bit jumbled, electrified the part of Sukuna’s brain that had already decided he was your mate. You didn’t just want him, you needed him. You needed him. Of course you needed him, you belonged to him. You were his and his alone. 

His his his his-

Then he smelled it. In the sea of apple, clove and cinnamon whiskey a sharp mildew scent hit his nose. The fucking mold of your “bond mark.” Sukuna saw fucking red, his body seething with rage as he remembered you weren’t truly his. No matter how deep he fucked his seed into you, or how much of his skin touched yours, you weren’t his. 

Not yet anyway. 

He plunged his teeth into your scent glands, right over your previous bond mark. You howled as he did, a wave of ecstasy rocking its way through your heated body and decimating your shocked nervous system as you came all over him. Aftershocks of your orgasm pulsed through your cunt in time with his thrusts, sending static electricity through your needy body. You instinctively dug your fangs into Sukunas scent glands, an act you were never able to perform on your (former) beta mate.

The relief that washed over him as you completed the bond mark was unlike anything he had ever felt before, and it left him in ruins. Cumming deep inside you, painting your womb white. The warm feeling he filled you with actually worked to (somehow) cool the raging inferno in your bloodstream, and you finally found relief from the hell you had been in. 

You stayed connected, him holding you close while he waited for his knot to deflate. You thought about Naoya. You had never been able to properly mark him because he didn’t have scent glands for you to mark. It met you were never really bonded, not like how you were bonded to Sukuna now. But, he was technically still your husband. This was his house and his bed you were getting fucked by a perfect stranger in. How would he react when he found you here with the warlord that owned the land? Would he find you here?

Would you regret it? 

You didn’t have time to really consider the ramifications of your actions before Ryomen was moving inside you again, and the last thing you wanted to think about was the boy that abandoned you. You whined underneath him, bringing your hands to tangle in his hair. He pressed his forehead to yours in response.

“Still with me Omega?” He asked as he started to pick up the pace, making you whine underneath him.

“I’m here my lord,” You mumbled softly.

“Good,” He punctuated the word with a sharp kiss before straightening up, “Cause it’s gonna take more than just that to knock you up.” He chuckled as his hips started to piston into yours, setting a punishing pace. The natural curve of his cock was seemingly designed to bully your hypersensitive g-spot, stimulating your body back to life as you gripped the sheets under you.

“Aww, look at my pretty little omega,” Sukuna cooed mockingly as he fucked his cum back into you, “All fucked out and full. Feels good to actually cum after spending so much time with a limp dick, doesn’t it slut?” Apparently, all it took was him getting to cum once for him to find his voice.

“So good, so fucking good.” You whimpered, “So big, so full…” And you had no problem feeding into it. His claws dug into your hips, leaving bruises defined enough you could take his fingerprints off of them. He watched the way your tits bounced as you tried to feebly hold onto the sheet, attempting to ground yourself however you could. He watched his bulge appear and reappear in your stomach with every thrust. He watched the way your skin glistened in the moonlight, begging him to mark it. He watched the way your eyes fluttered and glazed over with dazed pleasure. 

But the real show was happening where the two of you were connected. Where your slick coated his cock, creating a foamy ring around the base. Where your natural lube mixed with his load, making the most vulgar sounds as he fucked your quivering cunt. God, he couldn’t have asked for a better mate.

Your warm pussy hugged him perfectly, begging him for more and pulling him even deeper into you with every thrust. Every movement of your hips sent a wave of euphoria through him, and he desperately chased both of your highs. He wanted to see you cum. He didn’t get to the first time.

 He wouldn’t make that mistake again. You were finally finally his after months of coveting you. Of watching you, of needing you wanting you, of imagining you, you finally belonged to him. He was going to see what you looked like when you came for him god damn it!

“You gonna cream for me again Sweetheart?” He growled, “Squirt all over my dick like a good girl? I know you are, I can feel it, fuck-” His words fell apart on his tongue as you clenched around him. Stars blotted out your vision as your second climax started to creep up on you, slowly tingling up your spine and taking over your body. You bucked your hips into his erratically, chasing the high only he could give you. Sparks of bliss exploded under your skin as you felt him start to swell again.

And suddenly he felt way too far away. You needed him closer. You needed his scent, his skin, him. You ripped one of your hands away from the bedsheets and reached out, trying to communicate what you wanted. His head tilted to the side and he scoffed as he looked at your outstretched hand.

“Words slut, what do you want?” He growled.

“My mate.” You whimpered. He was immediately leaning down to you, pressing his chest to yours and letting your fingers intertwine with his. How could he deny you your mate? Your body exploded into a thousand sparks of ecstasy where his skin ment yours. His scent wrapped around your senses like an old blanket, cozy and familiar and safe. You whined softly and closed your eyes to embrace for impact.

“No.” He growled, using his free hand to pull your hair and force your eyes open, “Look at me.” He demanded. Your watery eyes held his fiery ones as you moaned pathetically under him.

“I’m so close..”

“Then cum for me.” The floodgates opened and you were suddenly drowning in a sea of ecstasy and dopamine. Your hips thrashed against your will and your legs shook like the last leaves on autumn trees. You swore you saw entire galaxies be born before your eyes as you were hit with one of the hardest climaxes of your life. Your eyes watered as they looked into his, your skin felt flushed against his touch, and your grip on his hand tightened.

“Fuck, Ryomen…” He hadn’t heard his first name spoken in years. His body slammed into yours as his own climax hit him with a brick. He fucked you as best as he could through his knot, riding out both of your highs as he filled you to the point of overflowing and then some. His entire body was racked with euphoria as he came harder than he even thought possible. 

He collapsed on top of you, rolling you both to the side so he didn’t crush you with his body weight. For a while, the only sound was of the two of you trying to catch your breath. You felt his arms wrap around you and calloused hands rub your back gently to sooth you. He kissed your neck almost sweetly.

“You’re doing so good sweetheart,” He praised in a whisper, one soft enough the wind threatened to take it away, “So good for me.” It made your stomach flutter. His presence was instantly calming, much more so than your ex’s. You might have even fallen asleep, if you didn’t feel him start to move again, still rock solid inside of you. 

🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘

Your body was sore the next morning when you woke up, but the fever had subsided for now, finally giving you room to breathe and think about literally anything other than lust. The first thing you noticed was that you were not at home. You jolted up in bed, a soft whimper leaving your throat. 

“Silence, woman.” That was when you registered the body next to you in the bed. You looked over to see Ryomen, fully annoyed at being woken up. “You’re safe. I’m here.” He grumbled as he pulled you back into his side. You weren’t sure what was more impressive, that he managed to return to (what you assumed was) his home after last night, or that he managed to carry you with him. 

“Sukuna-”

“Ryomen.” He corrected you with a dangerous growl. You paused, a bit taken back.

“Ryomen,” You accepted the correction, “what happens now?”

“Hopefully you go back to sleep.” He sighed, irritated to have been woken up at the ungodly hour of 12 pm. While he was still in rut no less! He didn’t get a lot of chances to sleep during this time, and neither did you. You needed the rest.

“No, I mean with…with,” You didn’t know how to put it.

“What, you mean your cuck ex? Don’t worry about it.” He didn’t hide that he was irritated with you for bringing him up first thing in the morning. 

“....Is he going to be hurt?” You asked softly. Sukuna felt his lip twitch.

“If I have it my way, yes.” He didn’t mince words. Why the fuck did you care so much about that loser anyway? You thought about your mates words, then nodded. 

“Good.” You said, finally settling back into Ryomens arms and relaxing into him. He didn’t hide the smile that tugged on his lips. He knew he loved you. 

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・ Taglist ・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

thank you lovlies, for supporting my work! @sk8ttles, @blkkizzat,@littyasatittyyy,@ketchupsush1 and @risuola

If you wanna get on the tag list, comment: here!

And if you wanna read week One, you can find it: Here!

[2hightocare]

SNOW IMPRINTS ✷

“I’m grown, I’m not dipping my dick in the snow to compare dick sizes.”

Synopsis: What was supposed to be a family reunion, ends in comparing dick sizes.

Genre: established relationship! married au!

Pairings: DILF!Jungkook x fem!reader

Warnings: Jungkook being whipped as fuck, Jungkook being a girl dad! (Cute.) a lot of cussing, mentions of sex, mentions of consumption of alcohol, found family.. Jungkook is just such a cutesy dramatic baby!

a/n: hai… I disappeared for a bit but happy new year!! I read “unravel me” and it inspired me to write this super short blurb so enjoy Jungkook being a golden retriever husband. (Ignore all mistakes, wrote this while high) 🤍 Word count: 1.4k

“I’m literally the biggest DILF,” your husband starts again. Jungkook points to himself while Iseul giggles in his arms.

“If you don’t shut the fuc—“ Yoongi irks.

“No cussing!” You and all the wives jump in. A heavy sigh leaves your mouth because this is like the hundredth time you have told all the boys not to cuss when the kids are around. Not since what happened when you decided to babysit Ye joon.

“Jeon, get your ass in here!” You shout from the kitchen, hoping your husband can hear you from upstairs. You stare at the empty cookie jar you had refilled yesterday, and there was only one reason why they were gone.

“What, baby?! What’s wrong?” Jungkook runs down the stairs with Iseul in one hand and Ye joon in the other. The two babies laugh at the bouncing. “Did you eat all the cookies!?” You glare at Jungkook, your hands on your hips as your husband looks everywhere but your eyes.

“Actually… Taehyung stole some when he left Ye joon.” He explains as if that would change anything. Knowing Jungkook for ten years, you know damn well Taehyung maybe took three cookies and the other fifty Jungkook ate them.

“No more cookies.” You announce with a shrug not wasting any time and move closer to your daughter who’s in your husband's arms, who stands there with mouth agape.

“No mowe cookies dada!” Iseul giggles as she makes grabby hands for you to pick her up, wiggling out of Jungkook's arms as you grab her.

“Now what do you mean no more cookies?” Jungkook switches Ye joon to his other arm, mouth hanging open dramatically. “There were like three packs in there, and you ate them in a few hours, so no more cookies.” You dance around the kitchen with Iseul in your arms, her chubby arms wrap around your neck as she laughs non-stop. Contrast from Jungkook on the other side of the white counter.

“What the fuck, baby?” Jungkook literally whines as Ye joon giggles, his little hands in his mouth, drool dripping down his chubby cheeks. “Come here, baby, come with your aunt.” You make your way to Ye joon only to stop in your tracks.

“Fuck!” Ye joon beams, clapping his hands, smiling up at you with all his baby teeth showing, as you stare at him dumbfounded.

“No, no, no, don’t say that.” You quickly interfere as Jungkook is staring at you with wide eyes. “Fuck! Fuck!” Ye joon laughs as Iseul joins in.

“Fuck!” Another giggle.

“This is so your fault!” You point to your husband who is trying so hard not to laugh. “Don’t laugh!” You put a hand over your mouth, trying to hide your amusement.

“I’m not— fuck!” Jungkook slaps a hand over his mouth.

“How the fuck are we going to explain this to Taehyung and Ari?” you sigh with a slight laughter in your tone.

“Fuck!”

“We couldn’t get Ye joon to stop saying the f word for like two weeks straight; daycare was seriously about to kick him out,” Taehyung sighs dramatically as Yoongi stares at Eunbi, his wife who stares down at her tiny belly. Wondering if that’s going to be his case in the future.

“Let’s pray for the new baby to not come out like this little beast,” Jimin squeezes Ye joon’s cheeks, making him squirm in Taehyung’s arms.

Ye joon, three years old, Taehyung and Ari’s child, the second-born from the group and the most mischievous, he really doesn’t listen to anyone but his parents, besides Jungkook and you. His godparents. Jiho, first-born, Seokjin’s and Lora’s child. He’s about to turn ten in January. Iseul, third-born, Jungkook's and your child, two years old and the only girl at the moment.

Besides Eunbi, who’s three months pregnant, no one else is going to have kids anytime soon, well, that’s what they say.

“It’s cold; let's go inside, girls.” You suggest as you pick up Iseul from her dad's arms, as the girls stand up following your movements inside the house through the glass door.

“Give Ye joon to Ari!” Hoseok hushes as he swats Taehyung on the shoulder. “Babe! Take Ye joon!” Taehyung shouts. Ari laughs at how her husband has Ye joon up in the air like the Lion King waiting to be taken.

“Come with mama.” Ari picks up the boy in a puffer jacket, making him look like a big marshmallow before skipping inside, joining all the girls inside.

“So sad Seokjin and Namjoon couldn’t come... they really decided on that cabin instead of us, crazy.” Jimin whines as he takes a sip of his beer before placing it in the hole he made in the snow before snuggling into his sweater.

“Honestly, I would take being in a cabin with my wife a hundred times more than being here,” Jungkook playfully jokes, “imagine the bomb-ass sex in the woods,” He smirks with the rim of his bottle on his lips, making the rest of the boys roll their eyes.

“Crazy how y/n has you wrapped around her finger,” Yoongi chimes in, blowing into his hands as if it would make them non-cold.

“Not even.” Jungkook playfully rolls his eyes.

“Dude, you’re so whipped, like it’s so fucking crazy,” Taehyung joins in, as he laughs when the boys hum in agreement.

“Dude, you tried to wrap her in bubble wrap when she was pregnant because you swore she would fall and hurt herself,” Hoseok recalls two years ago. “She could’ve fallen down the stairs; I needed to take precautions,” Jungkook tries to defend himself but fails miserably.

“What the fuck is that for?” You question your husband who enters the main door with a giant bubble wrap roll.

“This is for your safety, baby, can’t have you falling and hurting yourself, so I’m wrapping the whole house like it’s a Christmas present.”

You stare at your husband who is speaking literally, “Jeon, you are not wrapping anything,” you warn him.

“It’s either wrapping this house up or I’m wrapping you in bubble wrap for nine months... your choice baby,” Jungkook shrugs, looking down at your laying body on the couch, hands rubbing down your two-month pregnant belly.

“Be extremely for real.” Your mouth drops open dramatically.

“Even Iseul in her two years of life has you pining after her; imagine when she gets a boyfriend.” Jimin brings up, almost sending Jungkook into a cardiac attack right there and there.

“Fuck no! No boys till she’s forty!” Jungkook points his finger to Jimin. “Or girls either!” He finishes with a pout, making the boys howl in laughter.

“Excuse the fuck outta me!” Jungkook shoots up from his chair.

Somehow the conversation steered with a lighthearted joke about who was the biggest, and suddenly everyone ganged up on Jungkook, talking about he had the smallest dick of all of them.

“We all know that Taehyung has the biggest dick here, let's be honest,” Jimin shrugs, which only makes Jungkook's jaw drop lower.

“Say less, only one way to find out.” Jungkook reaches for his zipper.

“Ayo, what the fuck! There are children here,” Hoseok rushes out, “we are not about to whip our dicks out to compare sizes,” he finishes.

“Of course not.” Jungkook makes his way to the snow, his back facing the boys as his zipper gets pulled down, and before everyone knows it, he spreads his arms wide, face planting in the white snow.

“Shit, fuck, cold!” He scrambles to his feet, tucking himself in as he shivers from the cold. Then, he chuckles with a grin plastered on his face as he points to the snow angel on the snow… and a perfectly shaped imprint of his cock.

“So who’s next?” Jungkook asks.

“I’m grown, I’m not dipping my dick in the snow to compare dick sizes.” Yoongi shakes his head, crossing his arms.

They all dipped their dicks in the snow to compare dick sizes.

“What the fuck! I swear it shrunk cause it’s cold, I swear,” Taehyung begs to the boys who stare at all the lined imprints.

“Motherfuckers, I told y'all I was the biggest,” Jungkook smiles proudly as he sees he is the biggest out of all of them.

“I can’t believe this, we just boosted his ego more,” Jimin sighs as he stares at his own imprint and then to Jungkook's.

The glass door slides open, making the five men abruptly turn around. Five women come marching towards them, “what are you guys doing?” Ari asks, with a big smile on her face.

“Nothing,” Taehyung answers a little too fast.

You stare at your husband, raising your eyebrow at him, and that makes him fold like a lawn chair. “We were comparing dick sizes in the snow,” Jungkook blurts out, “I won though!” He cheers, pointing to his snow angel happily.

“Fucking shit, y/n how are you upright?” Eunbi gasps as she stares at Jungkook's imprint. “Now we know why you are always so damn happy,” Yoongi chimes in with a grin.

[lani-heart]

|| ENHYPEN SERIES – 7 TALES MASTERLIST ||

genre(s) -> hybrid au, non-idol au, university au paring(s) -> ehyphen ( individually ) x reader(s) warning(s) -> angst, violence, crimes, bullying, drinking, etc.

abstract -> what can go wrong in a world of hybrids?

-> uploading will start May 18 //Schedule tbd -> taglist open !!

RIKI NISHIMURA || SPOILED & MISBEHAVED

abstract -> Freshman in college and put to socialize with the other kids from wealthy families. y/n and Riki Nishimura being childhood friends and hybrid / master weren’t anything like other owners. Instead, Riki misbehaves and is rude when around others wanting his owner for himself. Getting her in trouble a few too many times had got him worried that he’d be replaced like her father had warned him. So instead of waiting to be replaced… There's a new etiquette class available at the same school as his owner. How convenient… now was that gonna guarantee him a spot by her side forever?

COMPLETE -> preview

CHAPTER ONE || “perfect hybrid” CHAPTER TWO || etiquette CHAPTER THREE || misunderstandings  CHAPTER FOUR || fake relationship CHAPTER FIVE || for you

JAEYUN SIM || EVERYTHING FORBIDDEN

abstract -> Seeing how Riki is treated, Jake, jealous and tired, runs away from the adoption center. Only to save a girl from the predatory men on the streets of Seoul. Not knowing he’s a hybrid, they both have the time of their lives… while he pretends to be human. How scandalous… the daughter of a wealthy known CEO to be caught with a stray hybrid?

COMPLETE -> preview

CHAPTER ONE || outcasts CHAPTER TWO || luxury CHAPTER THREE || abandonment CHAPTER FOUR || forbidden CHAPTER FIVE || anything

PARK JONG-SEONG || NEVER ENOUGH

abstract -> Haechan always liked to interfere where he didn’t belong. Making a scholarship student take a hybrid and making a bet she’ll regret wasn’t on this year's calendar. Especially with how mean and rude he was… no way he was the well-behaved and sought-after hybrid the rich kids wanted. But… was sweet and caring, at the end of the day, however, he wouldn’t turn his life from riches to rags… right?

ON GOING -> preview

CHAPTER ONE || temporary CHAPTER TWO || scholarship  CHAPTER THREE || mean CHAPTER FOUR || insecurities CHAPTER FIVE || forever

KIM SUNOO || WON'T YOU BE MY MUSE ?

abstract -> The principal's spoiled daughter returns from her trip to China only to find that her artist's block hasn't gotten any better. Who knew a cute and innocent fox would fix that? However… she swore never to own a hybrid so she could only admire him from afar as his owner turned out to be everything Sunoo hated. Even through that hatred and pain… she still saw him worthy enough to be her muse. 

COMING SOON -> preview

CHAPTER ONE || artist block CHAPTER TWO || exhibition CHAPTER THREE || envy CHAPTER FOUR || disappointed CHAPTER FIVE || muse

LEE HEESEUNG || DYSPHORIC BEAUTY

abstract -> Never adopted… I mean who would want to adopt a hybrid with big antlers on his head? It was a shame that such a pretty face had such an ugly thing growing out of his head. Would you want to adopt him? Even after he tried to cut them off risking his life in the process? Even after your parent's threats?

COMING SOON -> preview

CHAPTER ONE || ugly CHAPTER TWO || doe eyes CHAPTER THREE || antlers CHAPTER FOUR || empty CHAPTER FIVE || pretty

PARK SUNGHOON || GRACE OF AN AMNESIAC

abstract -> The figure skater hybrid was sought after being sold for millions… but he met his match to take care of a clumsy woman. He was famous after all why should he have to take care of an idiotic woman like you who forgets to look both ways when crossing the street? Especially when you’ll end up forgetting him… all over again? 

COMING SOON -> preview

CHAPTER ONE || spring CHAPTER TWO || lies CHAPTER THREE || hate CHAPTER FOUR || truth CHAPTER FIVE || winter

YANG JUGWON || ESCAPE ARTIST

abstract -> Daughter of two renowned lawyers who just busted a case on the black mart hybrid traffickers damned their daughter with a hybrid. They thought it was a good thing to have someone to go home to after a long day… well that wasn’t true when he tried to run away every day. Until… one day she decided to not go find him.

COMING SOON -> preview

CHAPTER ONE || service CHAPTER TWO || escape CHAPTER THREE || law CHAPTER FOUR || riot CHAPTER FIVE || liberty

if you would like to be on the taglist please send an ask or comment under this post. If you message me there might be a chance I don't see if and if you ask on another post such as in one of the chapters it'll be hard to keep up with.

taglist -> @ilovecheese09 @gudkc @nikisvanillaccola @blossominghunnie @mheretoreadff @k1ttylvr @starzniiky @kibs-and-bits @b3tt7boop @in-somnias-world @lol6sposts @xiaoderrrr @jihyosgfremade @b-a-nshee-blog @mimisamisasa @katsukis1wife @eggomi @thunderous-wolf @tinyteezer @lilactangerine @starfallia @sousydive @bearseulgs @rooomeo

please don't be a silent reader !! reblog, comment, and like <3

[grandline-fics]

Immune To Your Charms

DESCRIPTION: Soulmates are incapable of harming the other in any way. Normally that would be a good thing but not when you're meant to be enemies.

WARNINGS: Usual mentions of brief violence/killing. It's Doflamingo, he's his own warning. Descriptions of illness

CHARACTERS: Doflamingo

WORDS: 2,824

A/N: Health stuff and non-stop interruptions have been keeping me from writing but some of it is calming down a little so I can get some writing done while I can. I hope you all enjoy this chapter and hopefully the next one won't be as long of a wait.

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine(here) | Chapter Ten | Chapter Eleven(coming soon)

——————

For two days after the kiss, you and Doflamingo both acted like the incident hadn’t happened. As far as you both let on, everything was completely normal, or rather normal by your standards. Still you threw attitude and disrespect his way while he tried to kill you. Normal. Just how you both wanted it. Because pretending that the kiss never happened was better than admitting it still constantly played on your minds. Even now when you both sat across from each other at the small table in your living quarters Doflamingo’s eyes continually fell to your lips even though he kept forcing himself to look away over and over. Thanks to the dark red lenses the direction of his stare was hidden. As he sipped at his coffee he watched as you stared blankly at the same page of the newspaper, realising you hadn’t turned the page in a while. “Well, what’s got you so interested?”

At the sound of his voice you blinked and your stare sharpened on the words on the page before meeting his relaxed, grinning face. With a frown you glanced at the paper again and set it on the table, sitting back and shaking your head slightly. “Nothing, honestly I was zoned out. Wasn’t even reading.” You explained while reaching for your drink only to stop and instead push it a little further from you. “What kind of poison did you put in my breakfast today? It’s different.”

“No poison today.” Doflamingo explained with a low chuckle building in his chest. “Haven’t tampered with your food or drink for a while now. You trying to say you miss it?”

“Well it seems like it did give a nice kick, must have gotten used to it without realising.” You teased slightly only to scowl suspiciously when the Warlord’s usually broad grin had lessened. “What?”

“Something wrong?” 

“Apart from the fact I’m strangely used to you putting poison in my food?” You asked before giving a tired sigh. “I didn’t sleep great. You didn’t interfere with my bed did you?”

“Your accusation hurts.” Doflamingo returned your teasing remark with one of his own. “I promised you I’d never mess with your sleep again didn’t I?” At that you nodded. He’d promised and so far had kept to his word that your sleep had never suffered because of him or any of those in his command. Even on the mornings you were sleeping in the servants avoided waking you because of the young master’s orders.

Normally you loved the bed you’d been given and found sleep so easily when lying in it but the previous night barely anything seemed to work. You just couldn’t get comfortable long enough to properly fall over to truly restful sleep and when you did fall asleep you were awake after a couple hours and right back to tossing and turning again. You were still feeling the effects now, drained and tired but not entirely like you had when Doflamingo had been on his quest to keep you awake for as long as he could. “I’ll try and fit in a nap or two in between my busy schedule and I’ll be back to my charming, wonderful self by tomorrow.”

You weren’t sure why you felt the need to say something to reassure him but the words were out of your mouth before you could think about it. Still it was strange for him to outwardly be concerned over something as small as you not getting a good night’s sleep. Even with the grin on Doflamingo’s face you knew he wasn’t entirely convinced and you could feel his sharp stare fixed on you, searching your features. The last time he’d looked at you so strongly was the night you’d kissed and not wanting to open that particular can of worms you grabbed your mug and took a drink, looking out the window. It wasn’t long before fanfare could be heard from the city.

“Bit early for fireworks isn’t it?” You asked, your gaze going to the Coliseum in the distance where the noise seemed to be coming from. “What’s so special about today?”

“Nothing really. Diamante felt like throwing a tournament.” Doflamingo chuckled. “Something to break in and introduce the new additions to the arena.”

“You really think they’ll last long in there?” Your lips couldn’t help but curve into a cold smirk. “They weren’t exactly an impressive bunch of pirates.” Doflamingo laughed at your observation.

“Do you even find any pirates impressive?”

“Are you going to be jealous if I don’t say you?” You asked turning your head to look at him again. 

“I don’t get jealous.” Doflamingo answered with his grin spreading when disbelief shaped your features and a subtle look of amusement began to creep into you gaze. “C’mon tell me who.”

“But leaving you wondering seems so much more fun.”

“You have a cruel streak in you, you know that?” Doflamingo laughed only to stop when a single knock sounded at the door and a servant hurried in. Their face was apologetic but his stare zeroed in on the white and blue den-den mushi in their hands. The Marines were calling.

———

For Doflamingo’s call with the Marines, going through the motions of being a Warlord you had left him to talk into private. You knew you didn’t have to leave but felt it would be best. Plus it gave you a while to get some fresh air and have some space from the Warlord. The plan of acting like the kiss had never happened meant having to continue being in his presence which irritated you because of how it was bringing new problems for you. In the beginning it was irritation and dislike that made you speak openly and antagonistically with the man but now you could tell you were both speaking to each other with a little more playfulness and almost civility. You’d accepted your fate as Doflamingo’s prisoner and his eventual victim when he found out a way to kill you with no resistance when you were first brought to Dressrosa. 

Now though? Now you almost felt settled that this was your new life and that disturbed you more than anything. The kiss you wished hadn’t helped matters. It felt like another sign that your mind and body were starting to give in to being the Warlord’s soulmate. This wasn’t how it was meant to be and you had to try harder to keep things as they were. Your hand brushed against the cold metal of a door and you snapped out of your thoughts and mindless wandering to all but curse yourself. You were now outside Doflamingo’s personal office, your body moving there out of instinct or pure subconscious habit. Sighing sharply you forced yourself to step away from the door and continue down the corridors, making sure you were more aware of your actions. 

Thankfully you ran into a servant who seemed relieved to see you and began to talk to you. Normally you embraced talking to someone normal and who wasn’t a pirate but you began to grow confused when it wasn’t idle conversation they wanted to speak to you on, but instead they started to report to you the chores completed for the day and discuss minor issues with the Palace upkeep and some tasks. 

When they asked for your opinion on how best to handle the problems it took a moment for you to snap out of your confusion and shock. You offered your advice as best as you could, seeming relieved when the servant immediately smiled and thanked you, beginning to set off to act on your words. “Wait, don’t you want to double check with Doflamingo or your superior?”

“The young master’s busy.” The servant explained with a small smile, looking at you like this should be obvious. “After him, you’re the next in charge. Thank you again!”

You could only watch the servant hurry off with a smile, unable to catch your mind up fast enough to call after them and tell them that you being second in command wasn’t true. Instead you were frozen in shock and extremely confused. Feeling a headache begin to form rapidly, you shook your head and continued on your aimless walk through the palace, the servant’s casual declaration still repeating in your mind. You didn’t even think anyone was second in command, as far as you ever saw things Doflamingo’s word was law and the only time the elite officers of his ‘family’ gave orders was when they came from Doflamingo or when they told the servants what they wanted to eat for their meals but that wasn’t the same as being in charge. 

Now even more drained than you had been, you turned to make your way back to your room. You’d jokingly said you’d nap but now it was seeming like a good idea. As you approached your quarters you stopped to see Doflamingo casually strolling towards you. “Well? When do you go?”

“Were you eavesdropping?” Doflamingo asked with his broad grin in place. Part of him was confused why you’d need to be sneaky and listen in to a conversation you were more than welcome to stay in the room for. He turned to walk beside you as you continued on your way back to your quarters.

“No, I just know this is normally the time of year they’d be calling you and the other Warlords in for a meeting.” You explained with a shrug.

“The time of year?” Doflamingo repeated in interest.

“If there’s no pressing issue they need you and the Warlords to deal with they usually call a meeting to have you in the Marine building for some visiting nobles or royalty to see you.” You explained as you stepped into your room and shrugged, settling down on your sofa. “A way to reassure them that the Marine’s are in power I suppose. What better way to show that than for them to see pirates of the Warlord rank?” Doflamingo chuckled and perched himself on the back of the sofa, looking down at you as you got comfortable. He’d always known the Marine’s patterns and habits and liked to play dumb but it was oddly surprising and refreshing for you to have noticed it too. “So when do you go?”

“Soon.” Doflamingo answered your repeated question. “Won’t be gone too long.”

“Guess I’ll have to fit in as much destruction as possible then while you’re gone.” You smirked, idly rubbing your temple as you felt the headache from earlier still nag at you. “Want to try and kill me before you go? You didn’t try today.”

“Aw aren’t you sweet?” Doflamingo grinned, leaning down to poke the centre of your head and coax you to lie back more against the sofa. “Sadly, it’s not as enjoyable when you’re tired. Rest and I’ll double my efforts when I’m back to make up for the time away.”

“Big talk.” You grinned, the pain seeming to dissipate slightly in the brief moment Doflamingo’s fingers were against your forehead. “If I wasn’t already lying down I’d be swooning. Go on, have fun annoying Warlords and Marines. See you when you get back.”

———

As expected the Warlord meeting was a complete bore, the only entertainment for Doflamingo came from him purposely agitating those who shared the title of Warlord with him and the Marines ‘in charge’ or leading the meeting and navigating the pirates through the halls. As you had already predicted there just so happened to be visiting dignitaries also walking the corridors at the same time. It was all theatre really. Designed to look as mere coincidence the paths were crossed. On their way to the large banquet room, Doflamingo’s curiosity was piqued at the sound of some high ranked Marines deep in conversation. Normally he wouldn’t care what they had to say but the name of the island they were talking about caught his attention. The island he crossed paths with you. It felt so long ago since that night the warehouse exploded and he came across you. Feeling nostalgic he listened in on their conversation. 

“The sickness is ramping up, they’re at a complete loss what to do.” One Marine told the other.

“The numbers are rising with each day. How did this even happen?” The commander asked in annoyance.

“The virus has a long incubation period. No one realised until the first infected finally started showing signs. We should have a better idea soon now that the source of the virus has been dealt with but it’s not looking good for those already infected. Mortality rate is already severe.”

“Such a mess but I suppose there's one thing to be thankful for.”

“Sir?”

“We lost a full unit there a while ago.” The commander explained. “They would have been infected too given how long they were stationed there. Better we lost them fighting criminals than falling to a virus.” For a heavy moment Doflamingo was rooted in the spot as he absorbed the information, processing what he’d just heard. He hadn’t misheard the name of the island, he knew he didn’t and it was reinforced when they spoke of an entire unit being wiped out. Your unit. 

Snapping into action he began moving once more and strode passed the other Warlords as they were entering the banquet hall. He ignored the Marine officer trying to tell him to not stray too far or wander around so freely. Had it been any other day he would have cut the worm to ribbons for even suggesting he couldn’t go or do as he wished. He only kept the ‘protection’ that the Warlord title gave for mere enjoyment. Kicking open the balcony door he leapt onto the railing and wordlessly left, his strings pulling him through the air as fast as he could to return to Dressrosa.

———

It had been a full day since Doflamingo had left Dressrosa and in that time you’d felt yourself feel worse and worse. Originally you’d put it up to the lack of sleep and not eating much but now you were sure something nasty was working its way through your system. You weren’t sure just how common flus or colds were in Dressrosa or if this was the season for them but anything was possible. With such a crowded city you could have caught the flu from a civilian you passed in the street or touched something already contaminated in one of the stores. You also considered the possibility of one of the pirates you killed having been sick with something and you didn’t realise you’d caught it until now. What you did know was that even with this being the beginning of the flu it felt worse than anything you’d had before.

You’d tried going to bed early and couldn’t rest even though your body felt more exhausted than ever. Everything was tense and ached as if you’d endured punishing training and battles all at once. The pressure against your lungs made even taking a breath difficult and you trembled as your temperature rushed from one extreme to the other. Your head felt like it was being crushed in a vice and stabbed, the pain growing and throbbing against your skull. The effort it took for you to push yourself up in the bed and drag yourself over to the bedside table seemed like scaling a mountain but somehow you managed to do it. With shaking hands and unfocussed eyes you grabbed the glass of water and forced yourself to take a small, painful sip in the hopes the cold liquid would soothe the mixture of fire and shards of glass that seemed to cling to your throat but it only seemed to flare the pain. You needed something to help. Even if it was getting the room to cool down you would take it. 

Struggling against your mind and body you stubbornly rose from the bed and swayed immediately. Your vision swam and the room tilted and spun so violently that your legs buckled almost immediately. In that moment you wished you had a Devil Fruit like Doflamingo’s, something that could open the window or anything to help you now. Hellbent on feeling the cool night air on your skin, you staggered clumsily to the balcony doors and fumbled to get them open. The second they did and you managed the last couple of steps to the railing you hung your head weakly and tried to take a full breath but could only manage a small, broke rasp as anything bigger would have caused more pain and discomfort. Slowly you lifted your head and prepared to make the struggle back to your bed but the sudden motion and your vision swirling at the sight of Dressrosa’s lights in the distance overwhelmed you and too weak to stop it from happening you tumbled over the railing.

———————————————-

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[brucewaynehater101]

Hello I have an idea for Tim.

What if he got those game screens pop up whenever he's doing some side missions or quests. And after that he'll get some cool and valuable stuff like: cool weapons with superpowers that are not from his world, advantages of gaining more information than the whole hero community, etc..

The Batfam probably thought that he was doing those missions because he was bored and wanted to relieve some stress, which is kinda true but whenever he does these quests he also makes a lot of allies from across the planets and helps him through it while also being part of the "Tim protector squad".

Also the screen will always congratulate him and give him some praise, plus the screen can also help Tim by upgrading his stuff or watching him from any danger and giving him a warning to be careful. Just a guy with his screen, what could go wrong? Hahah-

But. The screen can also give him some weird quest like "protect your loved one from [Redacted]" which confuses Tim but the screen doesn't have any power only providing him so who's the one controlling the screen???

Anyway these are just silly thoughts that I want to give :333

Heck yeah! I love exploring unusual/non-typical powers.

I really really want to develop this some more, so let's set up a power!

My favorite genre of games is horror. The fighting styles, gameplay, concepts, stick layouts, and all of that can be drastically different between games [at least Tim isn't stuck with game powers where he can't fight back]. Because of that, the end goal may be impossible to reach and thus changes to a new objective.

Here is an example of where this happened with Tim:

Convince Dick Grayson to become Robin Become Robin

Tim's thoughts and feelings can affect the missions he's given. He will never be given an objective he would not do (e.g. Kill Alfred). Not completing any task (side or main) can have consequences. Main ones have drastic outcomes that he can only somewhat control if he attempts them.

Upon completion, he gets points and rewards. His rewards are anything from new skills, connections, weapons, resources, etc.

His points can be used either in the "shop" or for his skill tree (Tim desperately wishes it was a "pay to play" game so he can get more points).

The shop has weapons, elixirs (one of which is Lazarus water), one use spells, maps, information/clues, outfits with effects, armor, etc.

His skill tree has three main branches: Body, Mind, and Soul.

For Body, he can enhance any of his characteristics to the upper limits of humans: eye sight, health, stamina, strength, sense of smell, etc. His points can also lower the difficulty or time needed to learn a very specific skill (ex. spending 5 points to decrease time needed to learn how to wield a pistol).

For Mind, he can hasten his thinking speed, create defenses against multiple mental attacks (including emotional manipulation and telepathy), decrease the mental energy required per tasks, decrease time spent learning languages/information, etc.

For Soul, this includes abilities to protect himself from magical/whatever interference, increase charm, increase ability to understand/read others' emotions, etc.

If he sounds OP, worry not! Tim suffers from never having enough points (he learned the hard way that he also needs to keep an amount saved up in case he suddenly needs to buy a tool or skill to save his or someone else's life.). There's so much he can buy, but there are only so many hours to complete side missions

Tim's least favorite quest was when he was chilling alone with his Zesti and suddenly got the notification:

Run

Jason's a jerk for scaring the shit out of Tim like that at TT

[liketwoswansinbalance]

In the modern publishing landscape, these days, I think like we do not have many (if any) point-of-view characters with low social motivation for whatever reason.

Sure, there are lots of characters with social anxiety or other perceived or legitimate foibles to overcome, there are many YA villain origin stories, and there are many unpalatable, traditionally "unlikable" men in classics, but disregarding those, who else do we have?

Can the state of openly being alone (and content) rarely be presented as morally-neutral or as the end result of a narrative? Must it always be that either being alone is the starting point, so there's room for "personal growth," or that being alone is seen as "undesirable" and/or an indication that the person alone has a "problem" or something otherwise wrong with them, like a deficit or moral failing that in some kind of karmic way gives them "what they deserve," which is being alone and discontent with it?

Characters with society anxiety, any differences in communication, or other reasons that interfere with forging connections "don't count" because they may still be motivated. Traits such as these only stand in the way of gaining relationships, as plot obstacles. They aren't intrinsically tied to indifference or to low motivation. So, these characters clearly are not experiencing a lack of interest. And they are not the ones rejecting others. Thus, they "don't count" as far as the archetype that I'm looking for goes.

Characters who undergo villain arcs or otherwise negative arcs may want to maintain their relationships or gain them, so some examples are immediately disqualified (hence not having low social motivation), even if they are the type of character most likely to alienate themselves by a story's end, conflicting with what they wanted.

(Unfortunately, Coriolanus Snow, who is quite close to the type of protagonist I'm searching for "doesn't count" because he has some drive to keep people in his life.

Rafal Mistral partially "counts," and is satisfying as a character, but also doesn't count because he temporarily makes "friends" or allies, depending on how you look at his exploits. Yet, despite all this, not having friends isn't exactly framed as a morally-neutral state either, so he is also disqualified by the end. Basically, he does have low social motivation, but his narrative lacks the conditions that would make the natural consequences of that low motivation play out for themselves. He is always surrounded by people, even if he hates every last one of them.

And, generally speaking, the usual, moody-broody, "misunderstood" YA love-interests very easily "don't count" because they have a desire to get closer to their object of affection.

Even Katniss Everdeen, an overall good person, who usually views herself as "unlikable," befriends others, originally for pragmatic, survival purposes. However, she does start with low social motivation, so that's something in her favor.

And yes, I'm aware that we need other people in this world—I would just like to see someone prove that supposed truth wrong once. And perhaps succeed in their world, if that's not too much to ask for.)

Also, are there any instances of characters who progressively alienate themselves from others, in which that progression is not inherently seen as negative? Like, what about non-corrupt misanthropes? Are there few of those in literature? (Maybe—Eleanor Oliphant from literary fiction counts, but something about that book did not appeal me and I didn't finish it.)

Classics guys sort of "count," but I haven't really seen examples of any comparable protagonists today since many authors and readers write and look for "relatability" in blank slate everyman figures oftentimes.

(I'm not done with Crime and Punishment yet, but Raskolnikov is very tentatively looking like a safe bet for a character who may end up alone and who may not be completely malcontent over such a fate, even if I'm expecting tragedy. I'm that not far along, but I also wouldn't mind it too greatly if he died, I suppose.

And even Sherlock Holmes has Watson as his constant, even if he's notoriously asocial! So he "doesn't count" either.

Carol from Main Street also comes close, but still ultimately desires approval from others.

Maybe no one is truly immune to humanity and I should give up on this notion?)

How many pov characters out there are 1) apathetic toward the masses and 2a) either alienate themselves as the plot progresses or 2b) do not make any friends? (I will allow them making friends and consequently losing them though because that still ends in net zero!)

Indeed, this "gap" in protagonists I've been running into lately, especially with coming-of-age arcs and protagonists whose arc is some form of "getting out of their shell," is: why do we (almost?) never see protagonists who just flat-out don't progress in terms of connecting with fellow humans?

Wouldn't having even a handful of those types be reflective of reality? (We as a society are more disconnected than ever, to be fair, despite constantly having access to one another via technology.)

Or I would completely understand it, if it were narratively impractical to have a plot in which a protagonist makes zero friends. Maybe, it's a near-unwritable form for a story?

So, my question is: does anyone have book recommendations, which present a character whose end goal is not to make friends or forge connections (any other ambitions or motivations are fine) and whose state of being friendless both lasts and is regarded as morally-neutral or as not outright evil? Any genre is fine. High fantasy is preferable. I am stumped.

(I also wouldn't mind recommendations of books in which the protagonist is vilified due to being alone, even if that is not my primary query here.)

[bomber-grl]

hello i love your fics so much omg 😭 can i request a damian x male reader fic where reader is like really feminine and maybe crossdresses? hc’s or a fic like im okay with anything 🫶🏻

Damian x Fem!Crossdresser!Reader ❤︎

Pairing(s): Damian Wayne x Male reader

Honestly? I know you’d hate to hear but Damian is Damian and is sort of weirded out when he finds out

What does he find out? That you’re actually a guy

Then he sorta applauds you mentally for being brave and challenging gender norms

He can be pretty judgmental but honestly he doesn’t even care after a while

You’re a guy that likes to be feminine

Nothing wrong with that and if anything Damian is just non chalant about the whole thing

So let’s go to when you guys start to date

It’s pretty amusing for him since whenever you go out to eat and the server refers to you with feminine terms he just says “yea, my boyfriend would love that”

Emphasizing the “boyfriend” part

Then he watches the server walk away awkwardly and although its mean, what can he say?

It’s in his nature, unfortunately

Your crossdressing doesn’t really interfere with normal like unless you meet new people that doesn’t know you’re a guy and Damian takes advantage of

But we’ve already been through that

Many people are surprised when they hear the Damian Wayne is in a relationship

He’s hardly a romantic

Well, that’s not entirely true

Because if that was the case, then why would Damian passionately support your fashion and style by buying you new things

Even going as far as going to the mall with you and lending you his card to please you?

Sure he’s acting all emo and non chalant but that blush dusted on his face ain’t hiding shit

Not to mention how he’s weirdly involved in helping you incorporate weapons (if you’re a hero/vigilante of sorts) into your outfits

He opens up more eventually and thoughtfully gifts you matching accessories without embarrassment

If you’re more leaning towards making your garments and accessories then Damian makes sure to get you fabrics and supplies that you’d like

Eventually it leads to Damian helping you out while over explaining what he’s doing as an attempt to help you

Who knew Damian could sew

And the whole ordeal was a bit of an excuse to make matching bracelets

All in all, he doesn’t really mind it at all and it’s just a everyday thing that’s parts of you

But then one day he arrives at the manor and given the heads up that you’re there in his room awaiting him

He heads up non suspecting when he really should’ve been suspecting

Because you had proposed dressing him up in your hyper feminine style this time rather than it being you

He’s a bit opposed

Only because of the time it’ll take, he’ll have to shower, and the risk of anyone seeing and taking a pic

But you’re his boyfriend so he can’t resist

And so ensues a 3 hour session of you dressing up Damian in makeup and various pieces of clothing that you brought with you for him to try on

It isn’t until he’s looking himself in the mirror that he hears a very audible click

He whipped around and It was just you taking a pic

And so he let out a breath of relief

Which one could argue was wayyy too early because then he hears giggles from the door and he knows it’s those two childish bafoons

(It was obviously Tim and Jason, they never had anything to do)

And so Damian is struggling to get them to delete it, to stop teasing him about it and how far he’d go for you, and so on

Eventually he gives up of course but in the end it was really nice to get to share your interests with your boyfriend

Besides these interactions he’s his usual self and wouldn’t have cared less

But you’re dating and there’s no way you’re getting the short end of the stick with Damian

[burnednotburied]

Chapter 8: Stitches

AO3 Link  |  Masterlist

Pairing: Abby Anderson x fem!reader

Fic Synopsis: Abby goes looking for Owen and ends up on the wrong end of your knife.

Tags/CWs: sexual themes/content; angst; slowburn; mutual pining; enemies to friends to lovers; hurt/comfort; tending to injuries; talks of purity culture/ideals and “sin”; internalized homophobia and some comp-het feelings (they’re both so gay but so dumb about it); blood and injury; religious/cult-like ideas; character deaths (canon AND non-canon)

Note: I’m excited for this chapter!!

If you’ve read my first fic “You’re My People,” you might recognize parts of the second half of this chapter. I was going to rewrite the scene entirely, but then I reread YMP for the first time since I wrote it and thought “wait, i actually like this.” So I edited it to be a more accurate depiction of the current vibe/dynamic between our Prophet and our beloved Wolf, switched up the povs, and fixed any plot changes. And it has an entirely different ending!

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When Abby had asked you to stay behind, to wait for her back at the aquarium, you just shook your head, picked up your bow, and motioned for her to lead the way. 

Something was off with you. You had been silent for the entire trek from the aquarium to the theater, not asking a single question. 

You didn’t ask who had done that to Owen, Mel, and Yara. You didn’t ask what Abby was planning on doing once you got there. You didn’t ask why this was happening, why someone was tracking her down, how your own friend could’ve gotten caught in the crosshairs and ended up dead.

Which was good, because Abby wasn’t prepared to answer any of those questions right now. 

But you hadn’t even reacted to seeing Yara dead. Abby doesn’t think you even looked at her body, and you treated the huge pools of blood on the floor like they were puddles of rainwater on the street after a storm. Inconvenient but inconsequential.

She knew what this was. She’d seen it before in her friends and fellow soldiers. Hell, she’d done it herself plenty of times. When the hurt gets too big, you shut it down entirely just to make it through. It’s fine in the middle of combat – helpful, even. It becomes a problem when you can’t pull yourself out of it, when you close yourself off indefinitely.

If you didn’t snap out of it on your own once all of this was over, Abby would do it for you.

The two of you had been able to navigate the Seattle streets pretty quickly and without interference. The Wolves and the Seraphites must’ve still been busy killing each other on the island.

“Pinnacle Theater Presents: Cassandra, September 26” was plastered across the front of the building.

And now, staring at the entrance to the theater, Abby realized that she actually had no idea what she was up against. The lights were on inside, so someone was here.

She had seen Tommy Miller earlier at the marina, so she knew he would be inside, but Manny hadn’t said there was a trespasser; he’d said trespassers, plural. She could be in way over her head here, totally outnumbered. Jackson had been huge. They obviously had numbers and resources. But would they really risk those numbers and waste those resources just to avenge one guy? She didn’t know.

Did they leave the map behind on purpose?

Abby could be walking right into a trap. 

She could be leading you into one.

She was about to turn back, about to tell you it wasn’t worth the risk, when her eyes caught on the blood. It was on her hands, under her nails, staining her skin and her clothes. Mixed with the caked-on mud on her shoes. 

Lev’s blood. Yara’s and Mel’s. And Owen’s.

Owen, who had been Abby’s best friend. Who had loved her dad so much. Who cared for her, even when she’d done nothing but push him away. Who never abandoned her, even when he should have. Who continued to be there, to look out for her and support her, even after she broke his heart. 

Owen, who might’ve been the only person left in the world who loved her.

The person who killed him was inside this building.

“Let’s find a way in,” she said.

----------------------------------------------------------------

On the side of the building, there was a metal ladder that was too high up for either of you to reach it on your own, but it led to a fire escape.

“Okay,” Abby said, “Grab that ladder.” She stood beneath it and intertwined her fingers over a bent knee, ready to boost you up.

Realistically, you didn’t think you would be able to reach it even if you grew a full foot taller and stood on top of her head, but you weren’t in the mood to argue. With your right foot, you stepped into her upturned palms and pushed up. Planting your left foot on her shoulder, you stood at your full height, one hand against the wall, and – as you suspected – still couldn’t reach. 

She said your name, clipped and strained, and then, through clenched teeth, “Jump.”

You did, but you wouldn’t have made it if she hadn’t pushed you up, practically throwing you at the ladder.

Holy shit, she was strong.

You grabbed hold of the lowest rung and had to use upper-body strength you honestly didn’t know you had to pull yourself up with your arms until your feet could reach that bottom step.

“Good. You’ve got it,” you heard Abby say from below as you made your way up, the hard part done now. Once you were standing on the fire escape, you quickly found the latch that released the ladder to its full length. Even then, it still didn’t come close to reaching the ground, but it was manageable.

You watched as Abby jumped to grab on and had to go through the same process of pulling herself up with her arms for the first few rungs. Once you were sure she would make it up okay, you turned away and started looking around. There was a window next to you that led into the building, cracked open and letting in the rain. You could hear voices coming from inside, crackling and speaking in code. 

A radio.

“Units Alpha, Bravo, Echo, come in.”

The metal shook as Abby finally landed on the fire escape, and she quickly moved away from the edge.

“Units Alpha, Bravo, Echo, please respond, over.”

Abby pushed the window further open and jumped into a small room with brick walls and faded wooden floors. You followed behind.

She shot you a quick look, putting a finger to her lips as if to warn you to stay quiet as she moved forward through the building, closer to the radio.

“What the hell is going on over there?”

Sounds like things aren’t going so great for the Wolves, you thought as you stepped quietly behind Abby.

She walked up to the work table where the radio sat and stopped in her tracks. You came around to her side to see what she was looking at. On the wall behind the radio, there was a larger map of the area, marked with WLF zone numbers, unit movements, names, and even Seraphite territories. Whoever was staying here had been tracking everyone, and they’d probably been using this radio to do it. 

But why? Who were they and why did they want Abby?

You glanced over to her, but she wasn’t looking at the map. She was staring down at the table at a collection of little photographs.

“These are Leah’s,” she said quietly. You didn’t know who Leah was, but you studied the pictures anyway. Each of them had names written at the bottom.

Abby and Owen. Mel and Owen. Nick and Nora. Manny. Leah and Jordan. (And one of just Leah with her shirt lifted enough to show off one of her breasts… You wondered who that was for.)

You recognized most of the names from the maps. Were all of them dead now?

Abby turned away from the pictures, leaving them there on the table as she moved over to study the map. 

Over the radio, a new voice said, “Site Two! This is Briggs from Unit Echo. Fuck!”

“This is Site Two. Echo, what’s the situation?”

Abby pushed off from the table and headed back out into the hallway, gun at the ready. You took another look at the pictures before grabbing them and shoving them into your pants pocket beside the things you’d taken from the island earlier. Whoever these people were, they didn’t deserve to keep these pictures of Abby and her friends. And maybe later, Abby would want them. 

“Isaac’s dead. It’s a fucking massacre!”

You smiled, despite everything. Your people were fighting back against those fuckers. 

Since when did you use – or even think – words like fucker?

And could you really call the Seraphites your people anymore?

You turned and sped down the hall behind Abby.

“Careful. Stay close,” she whispered once she heard you behind her.

The hallway opened up into a much bigger, wider space. You’d never seen an Old World building like this one before. Carpets covered the floor, some red and some with fancy patterns on them. The walls had colors and designs, the ceilings were so tall, and there was furniture everywhere. You wondered what this place had been used for. Maybe you could ask later.

Abby led the way down a winding flight of stairs, stopping just before going around the corner, holding a hand back behind her to signal you to stop. You lifted your bow and let out a quiet breath. 

A man’s voice came from around the corner, speaking with an accent that was unfamiliar to you.

“Fuckin’ Jesse,” he said. “He thinks I don’t know what real gold looks like.” Abby stepped around the corner, gun pointed at the man who had his back to you. You followed hesitantly, staying close. “Well wait’ll you see this, you son of a bitch. She’s gonna love it,” he went on, clearly talking to himself, completely unaware of the threat directly behind him.

“Hands up,” Abby said, voice cold and hard. He froze. “Back away from your shit.” When he didn’t move, she spoke more forcefully. “I said back up!” 

Slowly, he did, hands empty and out where you both could see them. “You’re making a big mistake–”

“Don’t fucking turn around,” she spit out, stepping forward. 

Her eyes darted to you for a split second, voice lowering as she told you to keep your bow on him. You did, moving around to his side, weapon raised and aimed and ready to fire at a moment’s notice. 

“Get on the ground,” she said, speaking to him again.

“You gonna kill me like a coward?” he asked, unmoving.

Abby didn’t answer. Instead, she kicked in the back of his knee and knocked him on the floor with one swing of her pistol. With the muzzle pressed into the back of his neck, her voice cracked as she mumbled, “You fucking people…”

The giant red doors across from you swung open, and before you had even registered that a young man was rushing through them, Abby had already shot him in the head. Someone else had come in right behind him, but they managed to duck behind the counter before either of Abby’s two shots in their direction could take them out. 

“Jesse!” the other voice gasped from their hiding spot, just as Abby said, “Stand up! Hands in the air or I shoot this one, too!” She trained her gun back on the first man. You kept your bow aimed at the person behind the counter. 

“Don’t you do it, Ellie! Get out of here!” the man said, rolling onto his stomach, holding himself up on his elbows.

“Stand up! Now!” Abby commanded. 

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare!”

“Shut the fuck up!” Abby seethed, kicking him in the stomach. He let out a cry as she brought the gun closer to his head.

“Stop!” came the voice behind the counter. The girl stood up, hands raised, fingers extended away from the trigger of the pistol in her right hand. “Stop.”

You and Abby both took her in. 

She was probably around your age, with shoulder-length brown hair pulled half up. A bruise went across her freckled cheek, and a tattoo covered her entire right forearm. Her shoulders rose and fell quickly with her gasping breaths. Her eyes were panicked. And sad. And scared.

She looked… nice? Harmless?

This was the girl who helped kill all of Abby’s friends? Who killed Yara?

Instantly, there came a stinging pain in your chest so strong that it took your breath away. You’d been trying not to think about that.

You refocused and re-aimed.

“Toss your weapon,” Abby said. The girl hesitated. “Toss your weapon!” Abby shouted.

“Fuck!” Ellie breathed out as she flung her gun on the other side of the counter.

“No… no,” the older man muttered.

“I know why you killed Joel,” Ellie said, voice desperate. “He did what he did to save me. There’s no cure because of me. I’m the one you want.”

If you weren’t confused before, you definitely were now. Who was Joel? What did he do?

And what cure? A cure for the Infection?

You were really starting to wish you’d asked Abby more questions before you came here. 

“Just let him go,” Ellie went on, quickly gesturing to the man on the other end of Abby’s gun.

Abby seemed surprised by the girl’s words, taking a second to process and consider before her eyes hardened again. 

“You killed my friends,” she said, speaking quieter now. “We let you both live…” her voice quavered as she lifted her gun to aim at Ellie, “and you wasted it.”

Before she could pull the trigger, the man jumped up and pushed her arm to the side. The gun went off twice as they struggled for control of the weapon.

“Wait!” Ellie cried out.

“Get off of her!” you shouted, firing an arrow through the man’s leg. He fell back to the ground as Abby pointed her gun at his head and shot.

“Tommy!” Ellie had grabbed her gun again during the struggle, and you screamed as she fired a shot at Abby. 

It missed and Abby shot back, also missing.

The girl took off through the doors in the same direction she’d come from.

“Come on!” Abby said to you, running after Ellie.

On the other side of the doors was an even bigger room, filled with rows and rows and plush red seats, leading up to a giant stage. Ellie, already nearly to the stage, continued to fire in your direction, barely missing every time. 

You and Abby ducked down behind the back row of chairs, and her eyes met yours, both of you breathing heavily.

“Stay here,” she said, peeking over the chairs to locate the other girl. “Watch the exits. Don’t let her leave.”

You nodded, hanging back as gunshots continued to go off from the far end of the room.

Abby paused for just a beat longer before starting down the aisle, staying low but moving quickly. 

“Don’t you fucking run!” she shouted to Ellie, who you could now see on the stage. She had the advantage of higher ground and a familiarity with the building.

Please don’t die Please don’t die Please don’t fucking die, you pleaded over and over and over, as Abby made her way to the stage and out of sight behind the big red curtains that Ellie had disappeared into.

They were far away now, but you could still hear the struggle, followed by more gunshots and then more struggling. 

You held your breath.

But for once you did what Abby asked you to do. You stayed put.

Until several minutes later, when another woman – one you hadn’t seen before – ran out onto the stage, looking around frantically before dashing back behind the curtains, not seeing you from where you still crouched behind the last row of seats.

And now Abby was outnumbered back there.

A split second decision and you were up, running down the aisle after them. 

Behind the stage was a darker space, cluttered with junk from floor to ceiling. You moved carefully and quietly, heading towards the commotion.

When you came to a hole in the ground, you realized that the fight was now down below.

God, did they fall through the floor?

You quickly climbed down and dropped into the basement.

Just as your feet touched the floor, you heard someone scream. You ran, finding Abby down with the unknown girl above her swinging a knife.

You fired an arrow through her shoulder, and she fell to the side. And then Abby was on her, bashing the girl’s head into the floor.

You looked away, your eyes landing on Ellie, flat on her back on the ground nearby, conscious but unmoving, her face covered in blood. 

“Stop,” Ellie forced through dripping red lips as the other girl’s head hit the floor a second and third time. “Stop!” Ellie couldn’t even turn her head to properly look at what was happening to her friend. “She had nothing to do with this.”

Abby grabbed the girl’s knife from where she’d dropped it on the floor, grabbed her by the hair, and flipped her onto her back, holding the knife against her throat.

“She’s pregnant,” Ellie choked out.

Abby let out a few heaving breaths before pressing the knife closer. “Good,” she seethed.

“Abby!” you called out. 

She stopped, eyes softening as they met yours across the room. She watched you, read the plea in your eyes, and the fight seemed to seep out of her in an instant. 

She dropped the knife, pushed the girl to the side, and slowly got to her feet.

Ellie coughed, choking on her own blood as Abby stood over her, their gazes locked.

“Don’t ever let me see you again,” Abby said. A firm command. A sincere warning.

And then she walked away, passing you without making eye contact.

“Come on,” she muttered. 

You followed her out of the theater.

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Abby didn’t know where the hell she was going.

She had been walking through empty streets, blinking past the pouring rain, for who knows how long before it even occurred to her that she didn’t have a destination.

The thought of going back to the aquarium right now, of facing what was waiting for her there, made her sick.

Her body felt heavy. Everything hurt. It had been a long time since she’d gotten anywhere close to as fucked up as she was now.

That girl – Ellie – bit her. Hard. Like a fuckin’ rabid dog. And then Abby had hit her lower back on the corner of something hard when she fell through the floor and into the basement. She took some punches, got a knife buried in her left thigh, and that other girl got a few cuts in with her own blade before you shot her with an arrow.

And that didn’t even take into consideration everything else she’d been through today. The marina and the island and the aquarium.

It was… a lot.

She couldn’t really take stock of the total physical damage while she was busy trudging along down dark streets, but she knew that everything hurt. And she was definitely bleeding. And her body felt too hot but also too cold. And she was so tired. 

Shit, this wasn’t good.

Abby was aware of your presence behind her. She could hear you. But you hadn’t spoken at all, and she hadn’t looked at you once since you left the theater.

She needed to put some more distance between you and that place (and what happened there) before she could bear to do that, hoping that the further it was behind you, the further it would be from your mind.

But that’s not realistic. There was no way you would forget what you just saw.

She needed to know if you were scared of her now, if you didn’t trust her anymore. She saw the look in your eyes when you stopped her from killing that girl. You were horrified. 

You must think she’s a monster. 

She stumbled, her bleeding left leg becoming harder and harder to maneuver.

Here you were – this perfect, beautiful thing that came out of nowhere – and she had to ruin it with another revenge plot that ultimately accomplished nothing except to make the people close to her look at her differently, regard her more cautiously, whisper about her when she’s not around.

Did you see the look in her eyes when she beat Joel to death with that golf club? Brutal. What’s wrong with her? What kind of person could even do that? 

God, her life was turning into one sick, cyclical joke.

But you were literally the only person she had left, so she refused to turn around. Because if you still had that same look in your eyes the next time she saw you, it might break her. And she wasn’t ready to face that.

Abby stumbled again, this time more noticeably. She was able to right herself, but it took her longer to recover this time.

She was losing steam.

“Abby?” Your voice was as soft as the steadying fingers she felt on her shoulder as you walked around to face her. She kept her head down, still not wanting to meet your eyes. “Abby,” you said again when she didn’t acknowledge you, and then you were holding her face with both hands, cold fingers against her warm cheeks. You gently lifted her face until she had no choice but to look at you. 

She thought she might be crying, but she wasn’t sure for how long. 

Your eyes were wide, but not with fear or apprehension like she’d feared, not like you looked in the basement of the theater. You were worried about her. 

“We can’t keep going on like this,” you said. One of your thumbs was lightly, soothingly, grazing her cheek as you carefully studied her face. “You’re hurt.”

Her whole body shook with a sob, but you didn’t shy away. If anything, you pressed closer. 

Despite everything, she felt stupid for crying. She wanted to argue with you, wanted to be strong. She could keep going.

But you were looking at her like you cared, like maybe she hadn’t ruined everything like she thought. And she wanted you to stay close. To keep touching her.

“Come on,” you said, tilting your head towards the nearest building. A house. “Let’s at least get out of the rain.”

Abby nodded as your hands fell away from her face to pull your bow from where it rested over your shoulder and notch an arrow, and she was glad at least one of you had the wherewithal to be cautious of an abandoned building. If she had an ounce more energy, she’d be horrified to realize that neither of you had a weapon out until now. 

The front door was mostly intact and slightly ajar. You approached carefully, painstakingly forcing it further open with your shoulder, fighting against rusted hinges and warped wood. The floorboards creaked beneath your boots as you stepped inside, quickly scanning the entryway for anything or anyone that posed a threat. Abby followed behind you, trying not to visibly limp on her injured leg.

“You need to sit down,” you said over your shoulder, just loud enough to be heard over the pouring rain outside. Under any other circumstances, she’d insist on making sure the building was clear first herself, but she wasn’t confident in her current ability to even make it all the way inside, much less up and down the stairs. 

With your bow still drawn, you led the way through the first floor of the building, passing a bathroom and a kitchen before arriving in what was once the living room. The room was filled with furniture in various levels of destruction and decay, somehow the most well-preserved among them being an old couch pressed against the back wall.

You pointed to it. “Sit,” you instructed. She moved toward the couch without protest and sat in the left-most corner, albeit very slowly. You set your bow down, leaning it up against the wall by the couch, and shrugged off a backpack you brought from the aquarium, digging around in the main compartment until you found what you were looking for.

You pulled out a small battery-powered lantern and your dagger. “I’m going to check the rest of the house, okay? I’ll be back. Don’t move.”

Abby let out a scoff, immediately followed by a pained hiss. “I couldn’t go anywhere if I wanted to,” she said. It would’ve sounded more cool and casual if she hadn’t had to say it through gritted teeth. And if she hadn’t been crying in the rain in the middle of the street two minutes ago. 

Just the thought of it made her cringe. It felt weird being the one who needed help, the one being taken care of. She really didn’t like feeling weak. But she was glad to be sitting down, glad to be near you, and glad you still seemed to want to be near her. 

Your face held that same hesitant, worried look long enough that she forced a small smile and attempted to reassure you with, “I’m fine. Go.”

She was lying and she could tell that you knew that, but you didn’t have much of a choice. You turned to go quickly search the house.

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The second floor was clear of any discernible threats but also of anything that would be useful in helping Abby. On your way back to the living room, you rummaged through the downstairs bathroom and a couple of mostly empty closets in the hopes of finding something. Medical supplies. Even clean cloths.

You found nothing there and moved on to your last hope, the kitchen. This room was even more ransacked than the rest of the house, so it wasn’t a surprise when you didn’t find what you were looking for.

You groaned loudly and dramatically, clasping your hands together on the back of your neck and casting your gaze upward in frustration.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” Abby quickly asked from the other room, sounding ready to jump up off the couch and rush to your rescue even in her current condition. It made you smile, just a little, until you remembered that this was no time to be smiling.

“It’s nothing. The house is clear. I was just looking for some medical supplies.”

“Who needs medical supplies?” she asked, surprising you with an attempt at a joke. Either that or she was so out of it that she was starting to lose touch with reality.

“You do, Abby,” you said. “You need medical supplies. Urgently.” 

You were still staring up like the answer would be written up there somewhere if you just looked hard enough, when something in the space between the one of the top cabinets and the ceiling caught your eye. If you weren’t mistaken, it looked like the corner of a first aid kit, similar to the one Abby brought back from the hospital for Yara.

It was too high for you to reach standing, and there was nothing for you to stand on top of. The countertops were broken, the pieces scattered across the room, and the wood of the lower cabinets was rickety and unstable at best.

You were grumbling under your breath about high ceilings and unnaturally tall cabinets as you reentered the living room to find Abby almost exactly where you left her, left leg now up on the couch and elevated, right foot still planted on the floor. Both of her hands were hovering over the gash in her thigh like she wasn’t sure if she wanted to touch it or not, her face tense. She was in a lot of pain.

You pulled your eyes away and looked for something sturdy enough for you to stand on, eventually deciding on a mostly intact, only slightly wobbly small metal table. You dropped the lantern on top and started pulling it toward the kitchen.

“Do you really think now is the best time to rearrange the furniture, princess?” Abby asked, glancing at you in her periphery. She was joking again, and you knew that, but you couldn’t help the warmth that pooled in your cheeks at her use of that pet-name. But maybe humor and casual flirtation were just how she coped with pain. 

“I–” You cleared your throat, “I need something to stand on. I think I found something in the kitchen.”

“Aww, can’t reach the top shelf by yourself?” Abby asked, amused. She turned her attention from her leg to watch as you struggled to drag the table out of the room. It squeaked along the floor the entire way, making her laugh softly.

The fact that she was being playful with you started to ease your lingering panic about the state of her health. If she was cracking jokes, she couldn’t be that close to dying, right? A little rest and she’d probably be just fine.

“Crazy how you’ve lost like half your blood supply and yet you still have enough energy to tease me,” you said, your own teeth gritted now. The table was much heavier than you anticipated. “And for your information, the thing that I’m trying to get is not on the top shelf. It is above the top shelf. On top of the cabinet.”

“Uh huh. Sure… Take your time. I’m just over here casually bleeding out.”

You liked this. 

Was it weird to like this? 

It was nice when you just got to talk, when the world wasn’t actively burning to the ground around you, when things felt easy and wonderful and comfortable between you two. You’d seen glimpses of it over the last few days, had fallen into pockets of space where time seemed to stop and you got to feel happy. And hopeful. But those moments were few and far between and always over too soon. Selfishly, you wanted more of it. You wanted more time. More of Abby.

You were scared to hope for it, scared to want something so strongly. Your wishes had never come true before.

“Well,” you responded, finding your words, “I’m no doctor. But I’m pretty sure that if the knife had hit any major arteries, you would’ve bled out a long time ago. So you’ll be fine for another minute. Probably.” With one final shove, you managed to get the table where you needed it.

You carefully stepped up on it, hoping that some sadistic asshole hadn’t thrown an empty first aid kit all the way up here just to waste the time and energy of some poor desperate fool in need of medical supplies. (You, of course, being that poor desperate fool.)

After brushing off a thick layer of dust, you grabbed the handle. The kit was full.

“Yes!” you shouted, nearly tumbling off the table in your excitement. With the medical supplies and the lantern in hand, you rushed back to the living room.

Abby could tease you all she wanted and try to make light of the situation, but she couldn’t hide the look of relief that washed over her features when she saw what you were carrying.

And if you were paying closer attention to her face, she also wouldn’t have been able to hide the way her eyes went wide and her cheeks got visibly pink when you got on your knees on the floor in front of her.

“Uhhh hey, you can—you can sit on the couch.”

You raised your eyebrows, confused by her sudden nervousness. “No, the angle will be better this way,” you insisted. “Just bring your leg over here. That’s the worst of your injuries, right?” 

“I don’t know. Probably,” she conceded, avoiding eye contact as you helped her maneuver her injured leg so that her foot was back on the floor, practically between your knees.

There was already a tear in her pant leg where the gash was. So to avoid having Abby stand up and take her pants off or cutting all the way around at mid-thigh, leaving her with half a pair of pants for the foreseeable future, you opted to just rip the fabric a little more on either side of the tear, making it just wide enough to clean and stitch if necessary.

But it didn’t occur to you to fill Abby in on this plan before you did it. You took the already-ripped fabric of her pants in your hands and tore. And when she gasped in response, there was twisting heat in your gut that seems to be a recurring side effect of being close to Abby. You chose to ignore it in favor of focusing on the more urgent (and honestly less daunting and less complicated) task at hand.

“Sorry!” Your eyes darted up to her face. “Did I hurt you?”

She shook her head quickly. “No, just… wasn’t expecting that.”

You didn’t know what to say, so you dug around in the first aid kit and started cleaning the wound. Abby was quiet as you worked, wincing slightly but remaining still.

The cut was deep, but as you expected it missed the femoral artery. You would have to stitch it up, though, and you told Abby as such. She nodded and watched you carefully as you quickly prepared, hoping to get this part over with as quickly as possible.

You moved even closer to her. Abby’s shin gently pressed against your front as you leaned over her knee, bringing your face closer, your movements precise and intentional.

She brought her hands down on either side of her legs, bracing herself. Her shoulders tensed, arms engaged. You allowed yourself one glance before tearing your eyes away, feeling guilty for ogling. 

Focus. 

You looked back down at her thigh and began.

As you worked, a strand of your hair fell from where you had tucked it behind your ear and into your face. You let out a light, annoyed huff. Before you could attempt to blow the strand out of your eyeline, Abby’s fingers gently brushed it back behind your ear. You felt yourself blush deeply, saying a quiet thank you before going back to sewing her up.

When the last stitch was done and you’d carefully wrapped the wound, you felt Abby’s fingers run through your hair again, this time for no other reason but to draw your eyes up to meet hers.

“Come up here,” she said, her voice low. You stood, bringing the first aid kit with you, and felt the springs in the cushions creak beneath you as you sat on the couch, facing her and closer than was probably necessary. 

You felt jittery, and it suddenly occurred to you that you’d never been this alone with Abby before. There had always been someone else close by, somewhere in the same building or around the next corner. But now it really was just the two of you. It was scary in an incredible, thrilling way that you weren’t accustomed to.

But Abby was injured and you were both tired and today had easily been the longest – and the worst – day of your life, even if you still weren’t letting yourself think about what happened.

No. You’d rather focus on Abby. On what she needed. 

You started searching her body, analyzing the rest of her wounds. Abby sat still under your careful ministrations, watching your face with a soft look in her eyes as you took stock of the damage. You found several cuts of varying depths across her arms along with the one under her eye. And there was something else on her right arm, below the elbow. You took her wrist in your hand, turning that arm towards the soft glow of the lantern.

“Did she bite you?” you asked, nose scrunching up in distaste.

“Oh,” Abby winced. “Yeah.”

“Ouch,” you said simply, and she laughed a little as you grabbed some more supplies from the kit. You began gently wiping away the blood surrounding her remaining injuries, cleaning all of the wounds and stitching up the deeper of the cuts. You saved the cut on her cheek for last.

It was clear to you now that things weren’t quite as detrimental as you had feared. With everything else taken care of, her face was the last thing that required your attention. The rain had done a poor job of washing away all the blood, but it seemed that much less of that blood had come from Abby than you had anticipated anyway.

“I can do that,” she said in a whisper when you went to clean her face.

“I know,” you replied, just as quiet. “I want to.”

A few moments went by in silence as you worked gently but diligently, eyebrows drawn together in concentration.

“I’m sorry about tonight,” she said suddenly, quickly clarifying, “Not sorry that I did it, but sorry that you had to… see me that way.” Her eyes were downcast, and you wanted to hold her face and make her look at you again the same way you did in the street, but you refrained. You put your hands in your lap and drew back a bit, giving her space.

If you were being honest, the Abby you saw in the theater scared you. That Abby beat a person so thoroughly that they couldn’t move, couldn’t even turn their head to stop from choking on their own blood. That Abby would knowingly slit the throat of an unconscious pregnant woman without batting an eye.

Of course, you had known that she was physically strong. You saw her kill swiftly and without hesitation to protect herself and those close to her. But this was different, right? It was excessive violence. 

There was a lot you didn’t know about those people in the theater; that much was clear. They had been hunting Abby for days, killing her friends and seemingly anything else in their path.

They killed Owen and Mel and… and everyone else in those little pictures still tucked in your pocket.

You weren’t sure of the exact history between Owen and Abby, but you did know how important he was to her. And you had seen her reaction when she found him dead.

Who’s to say Ellie would’ve ever stopped coming after Abby and the people close to her? Who’s to say she would even stop now?

So could you really judge Abby for her actions, given how much you didn’t know?

This world is great at breeding darkness, planting it in you from the moment you’re born, growing and spreading both inside your being and out. Everyone has darkness. Tonight you caught your first glimpse of Abby’s. 

She had gotten scary, but that didn’t make her a monster.

And she pulled back. She stopped. That meant a lot. 

You trusted her. And you trusted yourself. You were sheltered, but you weren’t stupid.

Abby was a good person, and she was in your life for a reason, so you weren’t going anywhere.

You knew it was weighing on her, though. Not just everything that happened today, but the fear that what happened could have a lasting effect on this thing between the two of you.

So you shook your head. “Don’t apologize. I’m glad I was there. You shouldn’t have had to do that alone.” She nodded, but seemed unconvinced that you didn’t have anything else to say on the matter.

Part of you wanted to ask for the history now. How she knew Ellie. Why she wanted her dead. But you didn’t need that from her right now. 

Instead, you took another swipe at her face, wiping away the last of the blood. When you were finished, you pulled your hand away. The cut there might form a scar, but you weren’t brave enough to attempt stitches. Not on her lovely face, so close to her eye.

Now that Abby was about as fixed up as she was going to get, you turned your attention to the blood on your own hands. 

----------------------------------------------------------------

Abby watched as you meticulously scrubbed at your fingers.

When you finished with that, you put everything back into the first aid kit and put the kit in your backpack. Then you made a pile of all the trash that had accumulated. Then you sat back down and immediately stood back up. You shrugged off your jacket – Well, her jacket. (You hadn’t taken it off since Abby gave it to you on the boat, and she didn’t want you to. It looked better on you anyway.) You draped it over the other end of the couch, and then you sat down again. 

You were so restless it almost made her wish she had sustained more injuries, just to give you something productive to do with your hands.

When you started to stand again moments later, saying something about needing to move that little table back where you found it, Abby stopped you with a hand encircling your wrist.

“Hey. Stop. Just sit. You need to rest,” she said, pulling you back down on the couch.

“I’m fine,” you insisted but stayed put. “You’re the one who needs rest after everything you’ve been through today. You should try to get some sleep.”

“Everything I’ve been through?” she asked. “What about you?” When you didn’t react, she said your name. You cut her off before she could say anything else.

“You got hurt,” you said, almost exasperated, motioning to her entire body as evidence.

“That’s not what I’m talking about,” Abby said.

“I’m fine,” you said again, colder this time.

“No, you’re not.”

“Abby–”

“You’re not fine! You’re just pretending like it didn’t happen.” 

“Don’t,” you said, looking away now.

She knew she was pushing, maybe even too far, but she promised herself she’d snap you out of this if you didn’t do it yourself.

“You didn’t even look at her body. You haven’t reacted at all–”

“Abby, stop,” you begged in a breathy exhale. 

And she did, but only because at that moment you closed the short distance between you and pressed your lips to hers. 

----------------------------------------------------------------

You were hesitant at first.

You’d never kissed anyone before.

You hadn’t even meant to kiss Abby. 

You wanted to – had been wanting to for some time – but it wasn’t a conscious decision you made in that moment.

You just needed her to stop talking. 

So you kissed her, surprising both of you.

Just a soft brush of your lips against hers, a hand on one side of her face, holding her still, keeping her where you wanted her. By the time she responded to your touch, you were already pulling away. 

A thrill shot down your spine and spread throughout your body. You wanted more, but you didn’t know if it was yours to take. 

You weren’t sure Abby wanted you the way you wanted her.

You studied her face, watched as her eyes went from being wide-blown and shocked to something that looked like hunger. A neediness that matched your own.

She was looking at your lips, so you grabbed her face with both hands this time and pulled her in, kissing her again.

----------------------------------------------------------------

Abby’s heart beat against her chest as her hand found your waist. She gripped you there, pulling you even closer.

If the first kiss had been testing the waters, this was diving in head first.

It had never felt like this for her before. Touches that she had only ever pulled away from in the past, she heavily leaned into now, seeking more, needing it in a way she wasn’t used to. 

She knew you were just distracting her, that you only wanted to get her to stop talking about Lev and Yara, the island and the aquarium. She knew that you probably wouldn’t even be doing this if she hadn’t pushed you to talk.

But then you deepened the kiss and suddenly she didn’t know much of anything. Except that she didn’t ever want you to stop.

God, you still. weren’t. close enough.

She pulled you towards her, and you went willingly where her hands guided you until she had you on her lap, your knees straddling her legs on either side.

You stopped, pulling away from the kiss and whispering through heaving breaths, “Abby, your leg-”

“ ‘M fine,” she mumbled, already pulling your face back down to meet hers. The soft moan you let out as your lips met made her crazy. Her hands moved from your face, tracing their way down before landing on your hips.

She wanted to slow down, take her time with you. She wanted to strip off all of your clothes, push you on your back, pin you beneath her, and explore. She wanted to hear every sound you could make and learn exactly where to touch – how to touch – to make you come undone. 

Abby pushed her hands up under your shirt, fingers sliding along your lower back and up your sides. You gasped, leaning into the touch.

But then you pulled away entirely.

----------------------------------------------------------------

You promised. The thought cut through the fevered haze in your mind, sending a shock through your system. 

You promised Yara that you would bring Lev back safe. You said you wouldn’t let anything happen to him.

You told Lev that everything would be okay. You told him you’d get off that island together.

The full weight of it hit you like a tidal wave, so hard you thought it might’ve actually bruised your body and broken your bones. It knocked the air from your lungs.

Your friends were gone. It was your job to take care of them, and now they were dead. You did everything wrong today, made every mistake, and it cost them their lives. 

Somehow, you had gone from Abby’s lap to the other end of the couch, pressing yourself as deep into the corner as you could as you pulled your knees up. Your trembling hands pressed against your chest as you shook with the first of the sobs.

Abby moved and then she was on her knees on the floor right in front of you.

You thought she might be talking to you, but you couldn’t hear anything over the sound of the ringing in your ears.

It felt like something was pressing down on your chest. You couldn’t breathe. You kept trying but your lungs wouldn’t fill. 

Lev. Yara.

Images of one on the dirty ground and one on the hard floor. Both of them laying in a puddle of their own blood. And both of them left there by you.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to make them go away. But they were still there behind your eyelids. 

Still dead. 

----------------------------------------------------------------

You were having a panic attack, the worst one she’d ever seen, and nothing Abby did was helping.

She kept trying to get you to look at her, to breathe, but it was like you couldn’t hear her. Your chest continued to rise and fall jaggedly. 

She wasn’t sure if she should touch you – Were you supposed to touch people who were in the middle of a panic attack? – But she did anyway. With a gentle hand, she pushed your hair out of your eyes and held your chin, turning your face to look at her.

Your eyes widened like you hadn’t realized she was there, like you were seeing her for the first time.

Good. Now that you could see her, maybe you could hear her too.

She held your gazes as she spoke softly. “Baby, you need to breathe. Copy me.” She modeled a deep, slow inhale, followed by a slow exhale. It was shaky and not nearly as strong, but you tried. “Good girl. Again.”

You continued like that for several minutes until you were able to follow Abby’s breathing patterns exactly. The tears didn’t stop, but the heaving sobs had calmed to occasion hiccupping whimpers. 

Abby’s fingers ran through your hair, pushing it behind your ear. You still hadn’t said anything, and she didn’t think you would tonight. 

“Can you lay down for me?” she asked, voice low. You nodded  and began to shift out of your curled position, slowly stretching out your legs. Abby stood to grab the jacket from behind you on the couch and waited for you to lay down before she spread it out over you, covering you up as much as possible. Then she sat on the floor in front of you, turned so that her side was pressed up against the couch.

You were blinking more slowly now, exhausted from… everything. 

When you started crying again, she put her hand back on your head, letting her fingers run through your hair and scratch at your scalp in a way that she hoped was soothing. (At least she knew it would’ve been for her.)

“I know,” she said, leaning her head against the arm of the couch. “I’m so sorry.”

She stayed like that for a while, even after your breathing slowed and evened out and she was sure you had fallen asleep. She felt a tightness in her chest every time you sniffled. 

Abby had already decided to stay awake and keep watch. 

Her eyes scanned the room until they landed on your backpack. She got up, grabbed the pistol from inside the bag, and returned to her spot in front of the couch.

She watched the doors and windows, listened closely for any sounds of danger, but her eyes kept drifting back to you.

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Taglist: @h0meb0dyi @strawbeffys @sapphicontherun @lmaoo-spiderman @stickynachomaker @4-atsu @00ops1e @absoluteshitshow

[terezicaptor]

Thinking about how jealous Pac got upon thinking Quackity was dating Tubbo. Rotating them in my mind. All I want is for him to realize that he does NOT like the idea of non morning crew people flirting with or dating Tubbo, but he also doesn't care when Tubbo flirts with or gets flirted with by his own actual literal boyfriend. He sees Fit and Tubbo flirting and he thinks its funny and he LIKES it because...? Well, because they're all some of his favourite people so why WOULD he mind? :D

HONESTLYYY

Like Fit got jealous when Tubbo gave Pac a lap dance that one time but he doesn't mind when Tubbo talks about them making out and getting married. And Pac was perfectly fine with Tubbo giving him a lap dance.

AND ALSO FIT BLATANTLY INVITING HIM ON THEIR DATE??

Like I think the only reason Pac is fine with Fred is bc he thinks Fred doesn't interfere with the morning crew poly type dynamic.. though we're getting into fanon territory here. Let's lean a little harder into fanon/fanfic territory though.

Pac cannot STAND Bad after purgatory because he's convinced Bad and Tubbo had something going on. And he isn't wrong there was definitely something happening there. But he hears from Fit that Bad "filled Tubbo's hole" and that Tubbo asked him to clean it out and suddenly he's trying to spend time with Tubbo like no one's fucking business.

Sunny calls Fit her dad? Oh you bet Pac is trying to show Sunny all the cool shit Chume Labs has to wow her. He's going to be her Pai if it kills him. He's going to build her so many cool gadgets.

Fit misspoke and said Sunny wasn't family? Oh you bet your ass he's doing a Daddy-Daughter day.

He knows way into Tubbo's heart is thru his daughter's affection.

But back to him being jealous. He's chill with Fred because Fred seems entirely fine with Tubbo being involved with Fit and himself.

I think he was so upset when Tubbo didn't come on the date. And then he saw the edited photos and was like "Ohhhh is he jealoussss?? 😏" Which he wasn't but Pac decides to get him back on his own date by staging a pic of Tubbo on a date with him and/or Fit.

And Fred has a complete non-reaction. Despite them seeming to be the jealous type from how he reacted to thinking Tubbo was w/ someone else bc of Sunny.

Theyre just like. "Oh if you're dating other people you can tell me. We can be poly."

And Tubbo's like "I'm not? I don't think at least??"

And this somehow leads to him thinking morning crew is dating and Pac is very pleased. Meanwhile Fit is confused out of his head bc he hasn't been keeping up with the weird homosexual mindgames that Pac and Tubbo are on.

Idk this got away from me. Thanks for the ask 👍

[the-voldsoy]

Parallels/references/a couple theories about TMAGP EP1:

grouped in order of actual theories, vague things i noticed, and even vaguer comments! (using the same terminology as in TMA for ease)

HEAVY Spoilers !!

Stronger:

“Colin, mate, you know you’re never getting out of here” +won't leave until they figure out the errors “Or they finally kill me” → couldn't quit the Archives because they thought they just wanted to understand and know (but later found out they could only get out by dying or blinding)

Lena talks about cake → Mr Spider doesn't like cake + Elias seemed to love the stuff

pub called The Seward -> Peter Lukas vibes?

“There has to be a way to do this online” → haha ! you wish. (AKA supernatural interferes with internet so it cant be dont online)

“There's this box for a "Response 121" on the form.” → MAG121 is the episode Jon is woken from his coma/brought back to life by Oliver Banks

Talk about how there used to be a separate “Response” department → Elias tells Jon its their job to watch, not interfere (iirc)

Old as shit computer → old as shit tape recorders

AKA: the computer seems to be the only thing that can handle the supernatural

“ "Dolls comma watching" or "Dolls comma human skin" “ → violently Stranger and possibly Eye, has me in mind of MAG24 (the one the Calliope is first mentioned in, where the boyfriend is turned into a doll iirc) 

Barely understandable, long as shit file names →barely understandable, long as shit files names by Gertrude 

[in response to where the files go] “some long dead database that no one will ever look at or care about” → the Archives were unmanaged, decrepit and barely used by anyone outside of them

Work during the night - no sun, cut off from outside world → worked in a basement - no sun, cut off from outside world

Martin (and later Jon) taking the statements → did the same in TMA but in reverse (although I’d love to know if there's any reason behind them being called Chester and Norris, besides what's stated?)

Haha Martin and Jon (and Jonah) are now part of the World Wide Web → shit now they're part of the Web (just like with the tape recorders !!)

Someone talks about how they're sorry, they should've listened, couldn't face not hearing him again → martin @ jon and vice versa

Stranger statement with hints of the Dark → first TMA statement was a Stranger in the dark, and it does put me in mind of the Anglerfish tbh

Sorting system for the statements (although there's is a Lot more detailed and v different) → Smirke’s Fourteen

Gwen openly does not like Lena → literally anyone @ Elias

Asked if they were tricked into working here → well, we know the Archives and Elias

“The awful, terrible thing that landed you here?” → most of the Archives (excluding Sasha and maybe Martin) had something that made them Marked, that mostly led to them working there

Someone who's into spelunking listed the Institute as “cleared” → who could that be (if we know them at all)? Buried avatar, i'd guess, but we don't really know any of them

Photos of the Institute don't show up → photos of the supernatural don't work

The Institute was “weird”, made the subject paranoid → lingering Eye

Fire twenty years ago that burned the Institute → Like the fire at Hilltop Road? Or like that time Gertrude tried to burn down the Institute?

Third floor was the most burned → assuming that's the top floor (and correct me if i'm wrong), wasn’t Jonah in (and later killed) on the top floor?

“offices like little cells” → employees were certainly trapped ! also Millbank Prison

Worried non-existent doors were going to slam shut → the Distortion

Weren’t any papers → left behind before the Institute came to this Somewhere Else (assuming it's the same Institute)? (we need an actual name for the original universe and this Somewhere Else)

Suspicious stains on some floors → my darling, that is blood ! or possibly squished worms, or ink. or possibly something Else

“an old wooden thing with a bunch of similar symbols on” → genuinely unsure what this could be

Strange symbols → For all the Fears, or just the Eye, i wonder? I think i remember them saying something about an Eye symbol at this point, but now i can't find where

“you get a job, I get a fresh victim. It’s all in your contract.” → Elias @ his employees

 “To new beginnings, with old friends” → to a new beginning, with our old friends Jon, Martin and Jimmy Magma :)

“You’re not as clever as you think you are. You think you've got us all fooled, that no-one knows you're listening, But I do. I know. I’m going to find you and then…” → hi what did he mean by this

They (jon, martin & jonah) are Watching and Listening and following through technology→ just like Elias (Panopticon vibes tbh) and Sergey Ushanka

Vaguer (idk if theres anyhting here, but wanted to include it anyway):

Alice loves coffee -> Martin loved tea

Meeting in a cemetery → Sasha with Michael pre-prentiss attack, Naomi Herne 

Not wanting to stay at home because it's full of memories → Jon moving with Georgie, Martin moving to the Archives

Gwen Bouchard wants Lena’s job → Bouchard (appeared to) climb the job ladder quicker than he should have

Heh bug list → corruption

 “You don’t seem like the usual hopeless wasters Lena hires” “The awful, terrible thing that landed you here?” → okayy no need to be rude. But anyways the OG Archives crew were actually pretty disconnected from the rest of the world +were barely there by choice?

“freight cars near Brighton” → hey where did Melanie get her first Slaughter mark ?

“it’s not too awkward working with an ex?” → Georgie and Jon?

FR3-d1 -> i feel like there's something there, but i cannot figure it out

Just words that made me irrationally scared:

Stranger(‘s)

Distortion

Opposites:

Starts with a party for someone leaving → couldn't quit the archives

“ …you are perfectly within your rights to resign. No one is forcing you to stay here.”

please put any opinions/additions in the tags !!

[violetasteracademic]

What does it take for regifted jewelry to be romantic?

Rambling crap post that will literally only make sense of you have seen the movie The Family Stone but let's do it.

Sometimes I genuinely try to understand other ships. I actually really mean that, in a deeply authentic and non sarcastic way. If this shipwar wasn't so nasty, I'd engage with other people the way I do with my real, human, offline friends- some of whom are E/lucien's and G/wynriels. They are genuinely wonderful people who are not chronically online like we are (and we are, there's no point throwing that around as an insult) and they don't actually care that much. They are just going off vibes - but would be absolutely disgusted to see the violent misogyny and bullying that takes place here. We enjoy talking to each other about the ships, even when we don't agree.

Typically, when I am trying to understand something, I seek out more of it. I've asked my friends for fated mate book recommendations that match E/Lucien's story (meeting your mate, then genuinely falling for another person that is absolutely right for you in every way except for the fact that he is not your mate, and somehow the plot leads to falling in love with your mate that you don't like anyways because fate is always right and never makes mistakes, even if everyone is questioning it because you have feelings for someone else) and I haven't been able to find anything. The closest I can get is meeting your mate when you are possibly already in love/engaged/what have you to someone else and then you find out that person you are already with is actually the worst (aka Graysen) and then you wind up falling in love naturally and authentically with your mate. This is what makes it work. The person who isn't your mate showing his true colors and realizing you were wrong about them.

I think this is why Azriel's character has been rewritten to create a moment of the male Elain is actually into showing his true colors. Otherwise, her moving on to her mate that she isn't interested in just because the guy she likes rejected her literally doesn't make any sense. It can't be political machinations and the threat of violence and exterior motives and interference keeping Azriel and Elain apart. It has to be Azriel's personality and personhood, or the fated mates typical structure that I assume everyone is basing their thought process on falls apart.

I've actually been wracking my brain for years to find a piece of art or story that represents a piece of jewelry being regifted symbolizing the transference of a relationship and I FINALLY realized- my favorite holiday movie- The Family Stone! My God, the movie is literally named for the piece of jewelry, his mother's ring.

Finally having a piece to work with and pick apart allowed me to understand what elements are required to really pull off "regifting" to show that the gift is symbolically landing where it needs to go in a moving and romantic way.

1: The jewelry must not have been picked out and purchased for a specific woman, with deep and thoughtful insights as to why the man saw this piece of jewelry and thought of the woman he loves. In The Family Stone, the ring is an heirloom. It is no one's ring but his mother's. And the journey of this stone landing on the hand of the woman that is right for Emmet is deep, complicated, and heart breaking.

This is not the case for Azriel, who saw the rose necklace (very widely agreed to symbolically represent Elain on all sides) and saw something that the full depth and color was revealed when held to the light, a thing of secret, lovely beauty. And he knew it was meant for Elain. My God. Jfc. That's poetry.

2: The original recipient of the gift must actively show displeasure or disappointment in the jewelry- further revealing that this is the wrong woman.

In The Family Stone, Meredith (Sarah Jessica Parker), the "first" and "wrong" woman sees the ring on her little sister Julie's finger (Claire Danes) and while there is some drama (the ring symbolically gets stuck on Julie's finger lolol) Meredith looks at the ring and hilariously goes- "That's it?" because the diamond is so small. She doesn't like it. She wouldn't want to wear it. Meanwhile Julie was stunned. She lost her breath over its beauty and was overwhelmed.

Elain was also stunned and breathless at how beautiful her gift was. She wants to wear it immediately, and she wants him to put it on her. The act of this beautiful, thoughtful gift emboldens Elain to do something she has never done before: Blatant, unrestricted touching. Even while the man she is supposed to be with, the man whose gifts do disappoint her, sleeps upstairs. So the classic holiday romance trope of one gift is right and one gift is wrong is already playing out. From Elain's perspective, the woman who will demand a say in who she chooses and is the only confirmed FMC, she's been getting disappointing gifts from her mate for years. When she finally sees a gift that steals the air from her lungs and lights up her eyes, a gift she wants to wear and use immediately after years of lukewarm responses to the man she is "meant" to be with, it's romantic as fuck. Unless you don't like her and don't want her with Azriel, in which case it isn't romantic to you personally. However, personal opinion on Elain doesn't actually change the fact that after years of many of us already assuming Az and Elain were into each other, they had an extremely classic holiday romance reveal.

4: The act of changing your mind about who will receive this gift, in order for it to be romantic, must be an act of hope. An act of joy and dreams and revelation. Realizing that there is more out there for you, and after years of playing it safe, of trying to make it work for the wrong reasons with the wrong woman, you are ready to be brave and break your character patterns to act on that dream of happiness.

Near the climax of The Family Stone, we discover that Emmet's mother, the keeper of this ring, has had her breast cancer return. It is already clear she is not going to make it this time.

We learn that Emmet has been acting out of trauma, grief, and loss. He cannot wrap his mind around the thought of getting married without his mother being there. In a heart breaking scene, Sybil finally gives Emmet the ring she has been refusing the entire movie and lets him know it is his decision. But she also frees him from the horrible pressure he has placed on himself to get married while she is still alive. She wishes passion, joy, and happiness for him. She helps him cope with the loss of her, helps him heal the wound and burdens he carries of trying to be the Perfect Son and do everything right. All she wants for him is happiness and love. But ultimately, the decision is his.

In a rush of hope and healing, Emmet asks Julie to try the ring on. He wants to see it on her. It is a culmination. It is powerful, emotional, and restorative. In this story of brothers and sisters coping with the loss of their mother and trying to find their personal happiness, they all wind up together in the end. Meredith winds up telling Emmet she can't marry him, before he even reveals he decided not to ask her, because they both knew it wasn't right. It was so clear that they weren't in love with each other, but just trying to fit this ideal picture for reasons that had nothing to do with love. Still, Meredith isn't a villain, and winds up falling in love with his brother. The next year, everyone but Sybil gathers as a family, the first Christmas without her. The grief is palpable, but so is the love. The image of Sybil smiling at her gathered family through last year's gifted photograph of her ends the movie.

Azriel's regifting of Elaine's necklace was not a culmination. It was not an act of hope, it was not Azriel releasing Elain because he realized his love for her was not genuine and there was real and true happiness to be found in G/wyn. He did not even care to give it to her directly. He gave it to Clotho, who absolutely read the vibes and noted his sadness. He didn't even care if it wound up with Gwyn or literally any other priestess. He needed to relieve himself of the necklace because of the pain of not being able to be with Elain, just like Cassian yeeted his first Solstice gift to Nesta into the Sidra after her rejection. Regifted or getting rid of gifts as an act of pain is not romance. It is not even symbolic of a change. It only reflects a man who is hurting because he has nowhere to channel his love and longing.

What I find odd is that most people do agree that Az regifting the necklace via Clotho is absolutely not romantic, thus Azriel incel fuckboy (which literally makes no sense) was born. For the necklace regift to hold the symbolism that G/wynriels want it to hold (a sort of passing of the torch of Azriel's affection and attention) they agree that this is icky and gross behavior but G/wyn will fix him and he'll stop being icky and gross. I'd ask for recommendations on romances like that to try to understand that thought process as well, but frankly I am not interested.

Azriel getting rid of the necklace was not an act of hope, it was an act of pain. It was lot an act of love, it was an act of loss.

A change in who a gift belongs to can be romantic, with the right elements. The great ACOSF bonus chapter necklacegate has none of them. And yet somehow, even though everyone agrees it wasn't romantic, people are still out here arguing that it clearly symbolizes a new romance.

I assure you, romance symbolizes romance. It shouldn't be tricky or leave you feeling icky or like the MMC is flaky and entitled. I cannot think of a single romance author who thinks it's a good idea to sit down and write toxic fuckbois as MMC's. Even if they were toxic fuckbois in the past, they IMMEDIATELY simp for their women. As of now, Azriel still hasn't noticed G/wyn, his supposed mate, and is hurting and heartbroken over another woman that he would kill for if asked to. He is not coping with it by raking about town and looking for a new girl to fall in love with since he was ordered away from the one he wanted. He's just training, not sleeping, and putting rocks in snowballs.

When trying to determine what is being foreshadowed as romance, if we have to stretch beyond asking the simple question what is romantic, I fear we have lost the plot.

[notaplaceofhonour]

a common accusation goyish activists will level against Jews when we expect them to deconstruct & remove antisemitic views & rhetoric is that we are “tone policing” them by telling them to not be bigoted, and I have always been incredibly baffled and annoyed by this accusation because of how much of an obvious non sequitur it is

the complaint was clearly not about your tone. not only was tone not mentioned, it would not have made sense for us to have mentioned tone because antisemitism—like any other bigotry—is harmful & wrong regardless of tone.

I’ve spend so much time trying to make sense of it and try to figure out what is going on in the brains of people who say this. at the end of the day it really seems to come down to one of two options: either

you are being disingenuous. you know we are not talking about tone, and you are choosing to lie about what we said to justify not thinking any deeper & continuing to say/do bigoted things, or

you genuinely imagine bigotry as a matter of tone & “hurt feelings” which can be addressed by just rephrasing the same exact ideas in a gentler, less direct way. to you, bigotry is not so much about dismantling & deconstructing harmful systems & narratives; it’s about finding just the right euphemism to save people’s feelings. thus you’re happy to “play along”, but only so long as it doesn’t interfere with things that you deem to be actually important. either this is something you believe about minorities in general, just minorities other than your own, or Jews specifically for some reason

whichever it is, it is so incredibly revealing of how seriously you take bigotry against Jews

[iskratempestmadness]

The characters of "Baki the Grappler" and what irritates them.

Baki:

• Perhaps I should say that he is a pretty calm person and even if something annoys him, he will not do anything about it. He can't stand it, he's just too lazy to deal with it.

• He is annoyed by everything that interferes with his comfort. It can be people, it can be animals or insects.

• If they annoy him enough to make him move away, he will naturally deal with them.

Hanayama:

• Irritants? It is quite calm, but it can also be brought to a boil. But he is terrible in anger.

• He is annoyed by the touchiness of some people. He believes that it's okay to occasionally take offense at significant misconduct, but if a person takes offense at every phrase, it really annoys him. He tries to avoid the company of such people.

• In the company of such personalities, Hana tries to keep even more silent. For him, such people are just looking for a reason to be offended.

Katsumi:

• It is quite easy to provoke him. He is easily irritated. He is too emotional to hold back and easily enters into discussions.

• He is annoyed by pessimistic people. He just doesn't understand personalities who are constantly in search of something bad, negative. But it's half the trouble for him. After all, pessimists spread their speculations to others, thereby spoiling the mood.

• He tries to avoid such people. Honestly. He is essentially an optimist and indeed Katsumi is tired of convincing them that their point of view is wrong.

Jack:

• calm. Outwardly, it does not react at all. However, he feels contempt inside.

• He is annoyed by helpless people. Well, it's kind of clear that everyone is sometimes helpless, he is too, and it pisses him off. He hates it when he's helpless. And in others, he hates the fact that they are not only helpless, but also because of this they begin to hang on others, shift responsibility onto them.

• he tries in every possible way not to become a victim of such people and tries not to become the same himself.

Retsu:

• super tolerant, super understanding.

• perhaps the only thing that annoys him is lies. Just why? Why do people start lying? Do they think it will save them? No. As a result, it will only get worse for them. Do they think that their lodges are not visible? That's not so. He just can't figure it out. It's weird for him and it annoys him.

• it is for this reason that he avoids liars, but it is almost impossible. If he realizes that he is facing a liar, then he behaves more restrained, politely detached.

Shibukawa:

• Oh, my God, he's seen so much already. He believes that nothing can annoy him anymore. Super tolerant. But that's not the case, he still has painful spots.

• He is annoyed by insensitive, non-empathic people. Yes, it's pretty simple. But what could be worse when a person has a difficult life situation, and others only put pressure on him, do not want to understand him? He does not understand this, which is why these qualities infuriate him.

• He believes that such people should be avoided so as not to spoil his mood.

[pearwaldorf]

I have been trying to write this on and off for a while. I figure the second anniversary of the show is as fine an occasion as any to shove it out into the world. It is not everything I want to say about it, but I think the important bits are there.

It is a human impulse to be seen. To be told, through art, you are not alone. It is universal, but of special importance to people who are not well-represented in media (i.e. everybody who isn’t cis, white, able-bodied, skinny, and conventionally attractive).   

This show speaks to me as a queer person who figured things out later than most of my peers. (Not quite as late as Ed and Stede but not terribly far off either.) It’s not super common to see queer media address this, and I didn’t realize how much I needed that reassurance until I got it. That it’s okay to find these things any time in your life. To be told “A queer is never late, they’re always fashionably on-time.” 

They’re not my first canon queer ship. But they are the first ones where I knew it was true from the get-go. Multiple people assured me this was the case. And yet, I still didn’t believe it until I saw it with my own two eyes. This experience is not unusual for fans around my age.  

After I finished up season one, I laid in bed and cried. It’s not something I thought would affect me so much, but it feels like a weight I’d carried so long I didn’t realize it wasn’t supposed to be part of me is gone.

One of the reasons people unfamiliar with the fandom seem to think it’s absolutely crazy (which some of it is, to be fair, but every fandom has that) is the way fans of the show get extremely super intense about it. It took me a few weeks to realize this is a trauma response. I’m not even sure “trauma” is the right word. It doesn’t interfere with my day to day function, but it lasted for years. Decades. So it was definitely something that fucked me up. And in the way you can only start to see something as you’re moving past it, I’ve spent a lot of time trying to get my head around this. (I don’t know if I have anything to say about it yet. Maybe I need more time to sit with it.)

I know this sounds contrary, but I’m really glad David Jenkins does not come from fandom. Sometimes it’s good to know where a line is, and others it’s better to not know there’s a line at all. And this is, sad to say, remarkable to somebody who has had to deal with this for so long. With so many writers and showrunners aware of the line, and getting right up next to it, but never crossing it.

Imagine doing a show with a queer romance and not understanding why this was received with such emotion and fervor, because it’s just two people in love right? What blissful ignorance that this needed to be explained to him! And then he listened to people’s experiences with queerbaiting, and went “Oh my god you thought I was going to do WHAT?” And then you go “Huh. That is really fucked up.” 

The problem with being told something enough, even though you know it’s wrong, is you start to believe it regardless. All the excuses and hedging. It’s so very difficult to do they tell us, when we hear from queer creators how they had fight tooth and nail to make it as gay as it already was. 

And then comes Jenks, just yeeting it out there: majority queer and (not and/or. and) POC cast, an openly non-binary person playing an openly non-binary character. The ability to not have to make one queer (and/or) POC character speak for everybody, so you can inject a tiny bit of nuance into the conversation. The way you can tell more kinds of stories, like the one where the smol angry internalized homophobe comes into his own with the support of a queer community, even though he was a giant fucking asshole to them before.

So many people were like “You can just DO that? It’s really that easy?” And wasn’t that a fucking Situation, to have that curtain pulled aside. What next? Majority POC casts with stories about POC written by POC? Absolute madness. (Please please watch The Brothers Sun on Netflix. It’s so fucking good.) 

And people will scoff and say “Of course a cishet(?) white man would be able to get this pushed through.” But do they usually? The thing I don’t think people understand about allies is they use their privilege to wedge the door open. You still have to do the work to get through, but at least you have a place to start. And it really fucking matters.

The press keeps trying to tell me The Completely Made-Up Adventures of Dick Turpin is the OFMD substitute we need while we float in the gravy basket. I’m sure it’s a perfectly fine show, but I don’t know who has watched OFMD and decided the itch we needed scratched was anachronistic historical comedy.

I want stories written by people that reflect their lived experiences, with actors and crew committed to bringing that to life. And I would like streamers and studios to commit to giving them a chance, and marketing them properly so people know they exist. 

You can keep people satisficed with scraps for only so long. At some point, somebody is going to give them a whole seven course dinner and people will wonder why they’ve been putting up with starving this entire time.

[pooks]

part 4 of straw hat! Ichiji and we're at the last legs of the East Blue Saga; Arlong Park and Loguetown arcs

finding Nami and encountering the Fish Men

Ichiji arrives to a new island, along with Sanji and his new captain Luffy. on the journey there, he and the others were filled in by Johnny and Yosaku about what happened previously.

Sanji is in denial that Nami would have anything to do with Arlong while Ichiji is more rational and believes that there might be blackmail involved.

when they re-encounter Nami again, Ichiji realizes that he was right in his theory but he doesn't have the whole story and he decides that he can't interfere with something he have no business with, not when Nami rejects them.

Ichiji becomes very annoyed with Sanji's lovestruck behavior and outright tells Zoro that he has his full permission to fight Sanji if it shuts him up (and Zoro took that to heart, judging of how many times he would bicker and fight with Sanji in the future XD)

"Fight him, argue with him, tie him up, kick him in the ocean-I don't care! Just make sure he doesn't make a damn fool out of himself! I need to think." - Ichiji's exact words.

Ichiji, in dire situations, is a thinker and he sense that something is wrong here. compared to his crew maters, Ichiji responds to being attacked by the Fish-Men in a rather cold, calculated way. he hates to admit it to himself, but his training at Germa never left him and he uses it to his advantage. the Fish-Men discovers the hard way that Ichiji is not a "normal human" when he takes barely a scratch or even a bruise. when asked what he is, Ichiji replies in a chilling way

"Oh, I'm no human. I'm a monster."

Arlong, upon hearing about this, decides that Ichiji could be useful for him and orders his goons to take him alive to Arlong Park.

common ground with Nami

when the straw hats re-encounter Nami during her breakdown of being betrayed by Arlong, Ichiji understands that they're not so different after all; both of them has made a deal with a "devil" to save something they love (Ichiji, for Sanji and Nami, for her village). when Luffy declares that they're moving out to Arlong Park to defeat Arlong, Ichiji extends a hand to Nami and tells her that he has, also, sacrificed like Nami.

Ichiji then parts the hair that covers his left eye and reveals to Nami and the straw hats his secret; there's a star-burst shaped burn scar on his left eye. his eye is unharmed, but he tells them this was the prize to pay for the freedom of someone he loves. Sanji is the only one who isn't surprised about this revelation, but he looks away before anyone can see he's silently crying. Zoro catches on Sanji's reaction but says nothing (because what can he possibly say in this situation?)

they walk to Arlong Park, in the badass iconic way as they do

fighting Arlong and the Fish Men

Ichiji fights with his legs, just as Sanji does, and this is where he unlocks "Sparkling Red" for the first time. his new "power" reinforces his kicks in a more powerful way. Ichiji doesn't know what's happening to him and he has a mild crisis over it until Zoro shouts at him to focus on the fight and worry about that later

it doesn't take long for him to understand that whatever Judge experimented on his during those six months of hell is now paying off; he knows that something has changed and he has a strange power, but he uses now Sparkling Red to his advantage

of course, in a very villain-esque way, Ichiji do encounter Arlong and he gets the whole speech about a human-looking non-human would belong with his midst. Ichiji coldly laughs at the idea and says "why would I align myself with someone who doesn't keep their word? a true man would always keep his word, fish-men or not."

he reflects back on Zeff's "lessons" about being a man. the third lesson was that a real man always keep his word and stands for it.

with Sparkling Red enhancing his speed and strength, Ichiji no longer holds back and defeat most Fish-Men (the force of Sparkling Red spreads across his legs, like sparkling red lines wrapped around his legs and thighs)

he gets worried about Zoro a lot (he got his wounds reopened and has a fever), but trusts that they can pull through this and they can address Zoro's injuries afterwards

Ichiji panics when he sees Arlong Park collapse and nearly assumes the worst...until Luffy emerges from the wreckage and claims victory. overwhelmed with joy, Ichiji can't resist from hugging Usopp and dances merrily with him.

the mood is nearly ruined because of corrupt Marines and Ichiji learns fast from Nami what happened to the money she had struggled to earn to buy her village back from Arlong.

now, it's already established that Ichiji hates marines, due to they always turn to the Baratie being entitled bastards and this doesn't help. he calmly walks to Nami's side when she beats up Nezumi (the corrupt marine captain) and asks for her permission to handle this. and Ichiji just gives Nezumi a real slasher smile and says "i've never liked Marines, they always come to the Baratie and acts like entitled bastards who owns the world. but i hate corrupt marines even more. how about...there is one less corrupt marine in the world?"

he doesn't really plan to kill Nezumi, btw. but he wanted to scare him shitless...which works. Usopp later remarks that he was a little scared too and it felt like Ichiji could set the whole world on fire and destroy kingdoms with just his glare.

leaving Cocoyashi and Luffy's first bounty

the straw hats spends three days on the island, which allows Zoro to get healed up and the whole island parties to celebrate their newfound freedom. Ichiji takes in all the joy around himself and he feels at ease, seeing so many people so happy.

he thinks about Germa and silently wonders that if Judge had been a half-decent person, could've Germa Kingdom become something like this? a small kingdom, but with good monarchs and happy people. he sits down and looks up in the night skies, wondering if his mother are seeing him and Sanji and if she would be happy to see them happy and free.

onboard the Merry, the straw hats are sailing towards their last stop before the Grand Line...Loguetown, which is famous for being the birthplace and deathplace of Gold Roger, the infamous Pirate King

Luffy's first wanted poster has arrived and the crew is shocked to see his head is worth 30 million berry. Usopp is especially happy to see himself in the background of the wanted poster (just the back of his head, tho) which irks at Sanji's annoyance. Luffy, Usopp and Sanji acts silly while Nami is frustrated over their lack of taking this seriously.

Ichiji is more concerned since he figured that with Luffy having a 30 million bounty on his head, stronger opponent might come after them. he goes to consult Zoro about this and Zoro reveals that he had the same mindset, having one solution; they need to become stronger and more prepared.

Ichiji says it's only a matter of time until all of them gets a bounty on their heads. Zoro smirks at this and bets that he'll get his first wanted poster before Sanji.

entering Loguetown and cursed swords

as they docks at Loguetown, Ichiji decides to accompany Zoro when he aims to find two new swords to replace his destroyed ones (by Mihawk). Ichiji, who was trained in swordmanship at Germa when he was a child, advises him to inquire a shopkeeper about the quality about the words they're potentially selling.

Zoro jokes that he didn't know he had a hidden rival regarding swordmanship on the crew. Ichiji only shakes his head and says he doesn't aim to become a swordsman, just because he knows how to fight with swords, and his dream is to chronicle their adventures. Zoro asks him if he would write a book about him becoming the world's greatest swordsman and Ichiji answers "what made you believe that I wasn't already?"

this ends up in their first meeting with Tashigi, who bears an uncanny resemblance to Zoro's deceased friend Kuina, and Ichiji senses that Zoro is agitated, trying to calm him down. he also witnesses Zoro's "test of luck" and has a panic-induced anxiety...until he sees that Zoro's luck won against Sandai Kitetsu's "curse". Zoro also obtains Yubashiri, an heirloom blade and the finest one in shop. Ichiji feels very honored of witnessing this moment and declares to Zoro that he's certain that Zoro's adventures as a swordman will become a very good book.

Ichiji doesn't have a too high opinion of Tashigi, considering his distaste for marines in general, and he's quick to counter her argument regarding pirates or bountyhunters using legacy katana swords.

"And I suppose you are the one who decides who gets to bear a sword then? A sword is a responsibility and you bear it with honor and respect. To bear a blade like Wado Ichimonji, Sandai Kitetsu or Yubashiri...it's a big honor and their owner treats his swords like companions, not as tools. A word of advice, my lady. Don't assume things when you don't have the full story. It'll save you the embarrassment of being wrong." - Ichiji, during his call-out to Tashigi

Luffy's "execution" and Ichiji's "rage"

Ichiji is horrified when he sees Luffy being nearly executed and he's furious at the responsible pirates behind it. he shouts at Buggy, asking who he think he is to lead someone in a trap to execute them and where is his proper honor, that he should fight like a pirate, face to face

(Buggy is visibly annoyed by Ichiji's outburst and it doesn't help that he doesn't see a new pirate face. all of sudden...he sees a replica of Shanks)

the events that unfolds is pretty quick. Luffy is rescued by a cloaked "stranger", Smoker is unnerved by Luffy being similar to Gold Roger and Buggy, Alvida and their goons are defeated

Zoro and Ichiji, along with Sanji, re-encounter Tashigi who reveals being a marine and it irks at Ichiji's temper. she accuses Zoro for "tricking" her and Zoro is more unnerved by her uncanny resemblance to Kuina.

Ichiji's temper is finally pushed when Tashigi badmouths pirates. being raised by a pirate who sacrificed his leg for him and his brother, being raised among ex-pirate turned cooks and being a pirate himself, Ichiji has nothing but respect for them. marines, however, are the scum of earth for him. he, more or less, explodes.

"Marines...more like tyrants with too much power at hand and playing demi-god! I've lived my whole life on a restaurant that doesn't discriminate pirates, marines or civilians and YET, only marines has the gall to act like spoiled, entitled and ungrateful bastards! I have heard about Axe-Hand Morgan and how he treated people like insects under his boot! And it has only strengthened my decision to never trust a marine, even if I lay dying on the ground. If you believe that you're better than anyone, just because you happened to be a marine, then lay off! Marines doesn't save pr protect people! They want to control them like puppets!"

Zoro and Sanji ends up dragging Ichiji off his feet as he's going off. Zoro subdues Ichiji by pressing on "pressure point on Ichiji's back, forcing him to become relaxed and half-conscious. Sanji whispers to Zoro that marines is pretty much a berserk button for Ichiji and vaguely mentions there was an incident at the Baratie when they were fifteen, but he have no details except Zeff told him to never mention it if he wants to keep his ass from looking like a jolly roger.

the straw hats ends up successful in their escape and realizing that they can no longer linger in the East Blue, they set course straight to the Grand Line. but not before they have a cast off ceremony and make a pledge for their dreams.

Ichiji pledges to write and chronicle the adventures of the greatest Pirate King, Monkey D. Luffy.

(end. part 4)

(read part 1, part 2 and part 3 here)